


There's only so many times I can say Goodbye

by Princess_AzuIa



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Azula (Avatar) Needs a Hug, Bisexual Sokka (Avatar), F/F, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Gay Zuko (Avatar), Hurt Sokka (Avatar), Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Not Really Character Death, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Panic Attacks, Pining, Protective Sokka (Avatar), Sokka (Avatar) Needs a Hug, Sokka and azula are wlw/mlm solidarity, Vampires, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, but that's later on, my favourite platonic ship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:47:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 47,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27089623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess_AzuIa/pseuds/Princess_AzuIa
Summary: Dealing with the death of his sister has not been easy for Sokka. He's pushed and pulled himself to just get over it already, to move on with his life and be happy again. It's not until he sees her again does he realise he's in more pain than he thought.Are his hallucinations a product of his over-active imagination, or is something bigger going on?Every time he feels like he has the answer, the universe throws him another curveball.-----I'm bad at summaries lol. This is a 3 Act fanfic about Sokka getting fucked over by spirits and the supernatural, with Zukka endgame. Enjoy <3Also temporarily on hiatus :(
Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar), Jet/Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 37
Kudos: 73





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm a long time reader, first time writer/poster. I thought of this idea while folding laundry at my job, and right now I'm just kind of rolling with it. I've got a bit of a guideline going, and the endgame is zukka, but the main focus is going to be Sokka dealing with all of these life problems I've got for him. It's a modern setting with some supernatural aspects, but NOT supernatural as in the show, supernatural as in ghosts and vampires and werewolves and blah blah blah. Please give me some feedback for everything! I'd like feedback for the length of the chapter, the pacing, what you liked and didn't like, give it to me all! Also this is set in Canada because I am Canadian and it's all I know lol. 
> 
> ***TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> I have written a panic attack in this chapter. It's not too descriptive and it's based 100% on my own experience from when I used to get them (about 7 years ago), and google. "When he got to the bottom of the stairs..." is where I'll say it starts, just to be safe. It ends around "taking off his jeans and hoodie". Again, it technically ends in the paragraph above, but I just want to be safe! 
> 
> Enjoy uwu

* * *

When Sokka thinks of grief, he remembers the analogy of a shrinking ball trapped inside of a box that’s too small; the ball, at first, is almost always touching the inner walls of the box, and there’s never really a point where the ball is not touching all inner walls at once. Over time though, the ball becomes smaller and smaller. It doesn’t touch as often, and when it does, it’s not as noticeable as when the ball was bigger. Over time, like the ball, the pain of losing a loved one will become smaller and smaller until eventually, at some point, the weight of the loss is significantly lighter, and it only hurts sometimes.

Sokka understood the analogy. He didn't understand why it still felt like the ball was the same size.

It had been two long years since the accident, but it didn't feel long enough some days. Sokka's therapist, Piandao, always talked about the five stages of grief and how it was important to recognize each stage as it came naturally. The natural way had been a little too slow for Sokka's liking, and he'd decided to take control of his grief, pushing himself to just get over it already.

Maybe that was why he still felt like he was in constant pain, why his emotions felt as predictable as a coin toss.

It was nights like tonight that Sokka regretted not taking his time. He'd never fully admit it to himself, but he'd caused himself a lot of pain trying to force his way through the grieving process. It made nights like tonight so much harder, to the point where he could barely sit and eat his dinner without his gaze constantly flitting to where she once sat. 

At some point, he'd stopped trying to eat and had just settled on staring at the empty spot at the table, feeling a similar emptiness in his heart clenching. He could feel his eyes welling up, a sob crawling it's way up to his throat, threatening to spill over any second with the wave of sadness that followed.

Hakoda and Gran-Gran had stopped eating as well, apparently, as Hakoda suddenly cleared his throat. Tearing his gaze away from the chair, he looked up to see his dad and Gran-Gran staring at him intently. Hakoda was the first to speak,

"Sokka," He started softly, reaching a hand across the table. "You know it's okay to still be-" 

"I'm fine, dad," Sokka said quickly, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "It's fine." He cleared his throat, returning to his cold soup.

That was Sokka's biggest problem. Not the soup, but the denial. 

At one point in the grieving process, Sokka had realised he didn't deny her death. He'd accepted it rather quickly, and therefore figured he was on his way to the next stage in the grieving process. It wasn't that simple, though, because although Sokka had accepted some parts of the accident, he couldn't accept the pain. He denied feeling numb and sad and angry and had shut those feelings away. He'd locked his heart in a cold metal box and wrapped a tight fist around it for good measure because if he accepted his pain, he wouldn't be able to live with himself.

Sokka stood up from his chair, "I'd like to be excused for tonight." He said quietly, staring at the table. He'd already left without waiting for an answer, rushing out of the kitchen in the direction of his bedroom.

Sokka's denial lived with him in various ways. For one thing, it pained him so much that his room was at the end of the hall, after hers. He had to pass the closed door every night he came home, the silence inside the biggest reminder for him. He missed the annoying indie songs she used to play. He missed hearing her talk to her boyfriend all night on the phone. He missed her. 

Sokka hadn't realised he'd been standing at the top of the stairs for so long until he looked down, his knuckles white as he gripped the bannister tightly. 

Closing his eyes, he slowly released his grip, taking a step forward. 

And another.

And a third.

Another thing about Sokka's denial was the panic attacks. 

He'd dealt with a lot of stress over the last two years, and it had manifested itself into the form of anxiety. Every night that Sokka came home, he'd dread walking up the stairs and down this hallway. It felt like her ghost was next door to him, haunting him every spirit's damned night that he tried to sleep, reminding him that she was dead and she was never coming back. 

But Sokka couldn't still be hurting, he'd accepted it, it was fine. It was over; it happened a long time ago, he should be over this by now. Why did every little thing remind him of her, why did his heart rate pick up to impossible speeds when he passed her door, his blood running cold as he wrenched open his door, slamming it shut behind him and sliding down to a sitting position behind it. Why did his hands shake so badly as he ran them through his hair, breaths coming in shorter and shorter; why couldn't he breathe? He was over it; this shouldn't be happening.

_Find 5 objects you can see; he_ heard his therapist’s voice say. A loud sob left his mouth before he could help himself, and he clamped a hand over it to stifle the rest. His body trembled as he contained the crying as best as he could, never wanting Hakoda to worry.

His breaths were jagged and uncomfortable, his throat tight and constricting. His heart was pounding loudly in his ears, and suddenly his clothes were too tight.

_Focus_ , he thought, reminding himself of the grounding process. Sokka opened his eyes-- _when had he closed them?--_ and looked frantically around the room.

He saw one of his socks on the ground in front of him. He’d left it there after it fell out of his dresser this morning. _One._

His boomerang, sitting on its stand on the shelf above his bed. _Two._

One of his hair elastics, poking out from underneath the bed. _Three._

_The picture of his sis_ \- no no, no, not that. The picture of his mom, instead. _Four._

The sketchpad on his nightstand. _Five._

_Find 4 things you can touch._ His free hand was already gripping his whale-tooth necklace so hard he felt like he would snap it.

Sokka started to run his fingers along it, feeling the grooves and carved lines, as well as the occasional smooth spot where he’d rubbed one too many times. _One._

He uncovered his mouth, his sobs had died down, but his breathing was still uncomfortable, and touched the cold wood of his floor. He found the knot that he usually picked at. _Two._

That same hand found the zipper of his hoodie, colder than the wood, before moving on to the fabric of his jeans, rough and worn. _Three and four._

_Focus on 3 things you can hear._ He heard a dish break downstairs. _One._

He heard Hakoda swear. _Two._

He couldn’t hear his Gran-Gran assuring Hakoda that it was fine, but he did hear some coyotes outside, howling loudly over the sound of his pounding heart, slowly regulating to a normal beat. _Three._

_2 things you can smell_. Sokka took a deep, shaky breath in-- _then several short breaths forced their way through because he was still crying_ _\--_ and he smelled his cologne, which wasn't his cologne because he never wore cologne. It was her perfume. _Ocean Spray_.

He forced his diaphragm to take another slow breath, and he could just barely smell the air freshener that he left running in his room all day. _Lavender_.

_One thing you can taste_. He could taste blood, from the cheek he’d been chewing to shreds. 

His hands had stopped shaking, and he felt like he could breathe again. 

With one hand still on his necklace, he pushed himself up off the floor, grabbing his sketchbook and the pencil beside it. Piandao had encouraged him to draw after moments like that, give himself a moment to relax and breathe while still keeping his hands busy. It hadn't been difficult to adopt that routine; he drew all the time. It was something his sister had loved, and he felt like the biggest way to disrespect her was to stop doing the things she loved. 

After flipping through the pages and finding a blank one, he started sketching. He always started with her eyes. They were unforgettable; even Aang had said so when they first met. It had been a really corny thing to say, he'd even compared them to sapphires, but Katara had blushed and smiled so brightly afterwards. Sokka had, of course, made gagging sounds from beside them because really, who says that to a girl when her brother is standing right there? He'd come around eventually and found Aang to be like a little brother to him. 

Of course, that was before. Now he wasn't sure what to think of Aang. He'd tried to cut him off before, but the kid didn't seem to take a hint very well. 

Piandao had always encouraged him to not only keep up his hobbies but to keep up his relationships as well, which Sokka had been unable to do. He no longer spoke to his old friends, Suki and Toph, and would have done the same with Aang had he not been so stubborn. Sokka would have thought Aang would be the first to go, considering Sokka had lashed out at him so angrily when they found Katara. Which, Sokka didn't like to feel bad about, considering Aang had been the one that had allowed his baby sister to get in the spirit's damned car and drive herself over the-

Sokka stopped the thought early and looked down at the nearly finished portrait. He didn't want to think about that night. Instead, he smiled softly at the memory he’d chosen for this drawing. She was laughing, a particular laugh that Sokka had brought on by managing to fall down the stairs and catch his glass of water without spilling a drop. He’d captured the worry in her eyes, and the surprise in her smile. That had been only a few months before the accident. She looked so different on paper here than she had when they’d found her. When his own father had refused to flip her over, to be sure that that was his baby sister lying in the snow, Sokka had been forced to do it himself; he’d tried _so hard_ not to hurt her and-

_Breathe_.

Sokka didn’t like to draw memories that were close to that day. It was easy to spiral. He took a deep breath to steady himself. He hadn’t even realized he’d started to hyperventilate. Moments like this, where he could feel himself getting overwhelmed, was when he knew he needed some fresh air. Nights where his thoughts kept bringing Aang up, or constantly recalling the worst parts about that night.

Piandao had suggested he start taking walks to stimulate his brain a little more than drawing. He liked that Sokka had an outlet, but that outlet seemed to be an opportunity to overthink. Piandao never liked to discourage anything Sokka did unless it was hurting him, instead suggesting different activities to keep himself on the right track. 

This advice, of course, had been said to him in the very beginning. Piandao had given him different advice since then, but he found it never really applied. After all, if he couldn't accept the pain, which he denied he couldn't, he wouldn't be able to follow Piandao's advice. 

After putting his sketchbook and pencil away, Sokka hurried out of his room and down the stairs. He passed the kitchen, now empty, and headed straight for the front door, ignoring the call of his name from his dad. He needed fresh air, and he needed to be alone. Alone somewhere that wasn't his house, right next to his dead sister's bedroom.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! So yes, am doing a double update. This one is short too, but I hope you enjoy!! I also don't know how the chapter names go so ill be screaming if it says 'Chapter 2: Chapter 2'
> 
> ***TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> none!

* * *

Leaving the upstairs hallway wasn’t ever as eventful as entering it. Sokka knew it had to do with the fact that he was leaving his house, and he always felt a bit lighter leaving. Coming home had been impossible once. Now when he came home, he was usually tired from walking anyways, so the mental exhaustion wasn’t always noticeable. 

Though Sokka used to love driving at one point, he'd since sold his car and taken up walking. It wasn't for any particular reason, he just really liked walking now, and besides, everywhere he needed to go was within reasonable walking distance.

Maybe Katara had liked being driven around by him, and singing along to cheesy radio hits wasn’t as fun alone, but he didn’t avoid driving because his sister was gone. That was ridiculous. It wasn't like it hurt to drive without her, because Sokka wasn't hurting anymore.

It wasn’t like he had any responsibility either. He didn't have a job, and he’d graduated high school already. He _was_ in college at one point, but he had taken a mental health break so long that he’d ended up just dropping out--much to Piandao’s disappointment. He never voiced it, but he’d really wanted Sokka to keep up his education despite his loss. Sokka really had tried, but it had become too overwhelming ever to imagine going back, and the longer he’d put it off, the harder it seemed. 

Sokka zipped up his hoodie and buttoned his jacket before shoving his hands into his pockets. It was chillier than he had expected, but he was glad he had the foresight to bring another layer. He hurried on, reaching the end of his street where the sidewalk broke off into a dirt path. Living close to the forest had been creepy when he was a kid, but now that he was older, he really appreciated it. He'd loved going to parties and bars just as much as the next, but he didn't have Katara to chastise him for getting drunk anymore, and he was afraid of getting into those kinds of habits.

His shoes crunched over pine needles and small stones, adding to the ambience of the night sounds. As dark as it was, the moon shone big and bright ahead of him, illuminating his surroundings. Sokka took a second to take it all in, slowing his pace slightly. Huge pine trees lined the sides of the path, and he could hear the occasional owl hoot from somewhere within the foliage. Fireflies blinked in and out of view in front of him, and every now and then he'd flick his head to encourage a pesky mosquito to fuck off.

Stars twinkled overhead, and he could make out a few constellations if he really looked. It was a nice area, just loud enough to keep him from his thoughts, but with a calming silence underneath. He was getting closer to his destination; a small clearing with three or four benches and a simple flower bed. He visited this place frequently when he needed to be alone, and the benches were surprisingly comfortable. He’d slept on them before, but that was never a good idea because he usually woke up with some small animal chewing on his wolf tail. _It’s a ponytail, Sokka_ , He thought in his sister's voice, and rolled his eyes. She’d never understood his hairstyle, but then again, he was sure he’d been corrected more than once when he’d called her own style, ‘hair loopies’.

As he continued to walk, he heard voices filtering through the sound of crickets. It wasn’t unusual to see other people around here at night; it was a public space after all,

“-sure you want to be here?” 

Sokka’s pace faltered. There was something unusual about the particular voice he just heard. He was pretty sure he’d heard it before. 

“-haven’t seen him in so long.” 

The second voice was what caused Sokka to stop walking. It was even more familiar than the first; it sounded just like- _Stop,_ He thought, calming himself down, _Piandao said this would happen. You just miss her._ He’d experienced this before, seeing a brunette with the same warm brown skin, hearing a girl's laughter chiming the same way that hers did. It was apparently very normal to experience something like this, but still. It got him every time. He took a few deep breaths and closed his eyes. He wasn’t about to ruin some couple’s date night just because of some measly trauma.

Sokka resumed walking, stepping back into a natural pace. Whoever was here, they’d either leave when they saw him or coexist with him for a little while. Sokka wasn’t planning on staying long, so he figured if the couple didn’t get turned off from his presence, he’d be the first to go. And as hypocritical as the man could be, Hakoda had a good point about needing to get some sleep. 

“-Know that _you’ll_ be okay to see him.” Sokka was closer now, and the voices were easier to hear, and he could make out a familiar speaking pattern. _Where have I heard that first voice before?_

Sokka entered the clearing, and he saw two figures on one of the benches look his way. He couldn’t make out who they were; the lighting of the moon was shining at him, giving them a weird silhouette effect. Sokka gave a small polite wave before diverting off the path to sit on one of the other benches in the park clearing.

He picked the one farthest away from the couple, closest to the flower bed, figuring they’d appreciate the space. They did seem pretty interested in him, however, and while Sokka tried not to stare, he could feel both sets of eyes on him. _What if I just walked in on a drug deal and now they’re going to kill me?_ Said a worried voice in his head. Sokka weighed his options if that was the deal. Yes, he hadn’t exactly been working out or eating much, but he was sure he could at least poke the guy’s eyes out before running away. Maybe the woman had a weapon? He lived in a safe neighbourhood, yes, but that didn’t mean _every_ resident played by the rules-

“Sokka?” His thoughts were interrupted by the first voice saying his name. He glanced up to see the man walking towards him. When he was just a few feet away, Sokka could see exactly who it was, the familiar face illuminated by the light of the moon. 

“Aang?” Sokka scoffed and relaxed his posture from the bench. He hadn’t realised he’d been so tense. _At least it wasn't a drug deal. Although, maybe that would have been more enjoyable than whatever this is about to be._ “Long time no see. How, uh... How have you been?” He asked. Aang shrugged and stepped closer, giving Sokka a better view of his face. He was taller than Sokka now, he could tell even while sitting down, and his jaw had squared up slightly. He hadn’t changed much but was far different from the last time they’d seen each other. 

“I’ve been doing the best I can,” Aang answered honestly. At least he’d gotten better with words. Sokka was fully expecting Aang to tell him he’d been ‘doing great!’, feigning positivity that would somehow make Sokka feel worse. “How about you? I’ve spoken to Hakoda a few times; he says you haven’t been eating much.” That made Sokka wince. _Thanks, Dad_ , he thought. 

“Yeah, I’m taking things one step at a time. I’m seeing Piandao still, but you probably knew that already,” Sokka admitted, and leaned back on the bench, stretching his legs out in front of him. “So uh, I don’t mean to be blunt or anything but, who’s your friend over there? You out here on a date or something?” He tried not to sound bitter about Aang potentially being on a date. Aang was old enough to make his own decisions. Additionally, it had been long enough that him moving on from his sister would be considered appropriate. _Still a little fast, in my opinion_ , Sokka admitted to himself, but he was basing that off his own experience. He glanced behind Aang and noticed that actually, the friend he had just asked about, was nowhere to be seen. He looked up at Aang and saw that he was smiling nervously, 

“A friend? I, uh, I’m actually out here alone. Just wanted to hang out and chat with- with Momo! You remember Momo? You know he likes to come outside sometimes.” He lied. Sokka could tell right away, not only because he had heard _and_ seen the other woman, but because Aang was a terrible liar and Momo _didn’t_ like to come outside unless Aang had his special cat-backpack. He wouldn't forget that owl-eyed Siamese cat running circles inside of Aang's cat-backpack.

Sokka took his hands out of his pockets to fold his arms, narrowing his eyes at Aang, “Really? Because I heard both you _and_ a woman talking to each other, and you were talking pretty loudly,” He said and watched as Aang started to fiddle with his thumbs. “I also definitely saw _two_ people ogle at me as I sat down at this very bench.” He ended his point by glancing pointedly at the bench he was sitting on and waited as Aang continued to fiddle around, clearly trying to think of an excuse. It’s not even like Sokka was trying to grill him, he didn’t care who Aang saw or fooled around with. He didn't appreciate being blatantly lied to.

“I- uh... R-really, Sokka, It’s just been me the whole time. Maybe you saw something else? I’m just out with Momo like I said, ha-ha,” Aang laughed nervously and rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, taking a step back. “Y-you know, I should actually go look for him now. It was nice seeing you again, though!” 

“Hey- wait!” Sokka stood up before Aang could make his escape. He grabbed the edge of his shirt and held tightly. “Aang, this isn’t funny. I don’t care who you go out with; I’m not going to go berserk just because you’re moving on from my sister, okay? Just don’t try to make me believe that I’m seeing things.” 

“Sokka, I _really_ need to go find Momo.”

“Aang, if you’re being held against your will blink twice.” He didn't blink twice. Sokka still had a hold of his shirt though and held strong as Aang was gently trying to ease out of his grip. 

“Sokka, I promise you were seeing things. I’m out here-” 

“Don’t say you’re out here alone.” Finally, Aang sighed and stopped trying to escape. 

“I- okay look, I couldn’t even tell you if I wanted to. It’s not my place," Aang looked defeated like he _really did_ want to tell Sokka who he was with. "I hope you can respect that.”

Sokka looked at him skeptically before releasing his shirt. Smiling appreciatively at him, Aang adjusted his shirt slightly and gave a slight bow, “Thank you for understanding.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I guess I can understand why you wouldn’t want to tell me,” _No, I don’t,_ Sokka wanted to say. He wanted to say a few things to Aang, but he had a feeling the other man was trying to leave at this point. “Anyways, I’ll let you get back to your friend.” Sokka smiled and turned to leave when Aang spoke again, 

“Sokka, wait,” He started, and as Sokka turned back, he saw that Aang was avoiding his eyes. “ I um... I know we haven’t had a real chance to talk since, well, since that day..” Sokka had to force himself to avoid thinking of _that day_ for multiple reasons. One of them was how he had lashed out at Aang. “Emotions were high, understandably so, and a lot was said. I want to let you know that I am so, _so sorry._ ” _Stop, I don’t want to hear this,_ Sokka thought. He'd been trying _so_ hard not to blame him, and here he was apologising for it. “I’ll never be able to apologise enough for that night. I should have done more to protect her. I hope you can one day forgive me.” _I can’t. And I don’t know why._

  
Sokka stared at him for a second, trying to process the feelings he was having. Aang had probably been trying to apologise that day, and Sokka had told him to fuck off without evening listening. Sokka however, had been trying to convince himself that Aang _wasn’t_ at fault, so to hear the other man apologise just made Sokka upset. If even _Aang_ thought he was at fault, then shouldn't Sokka, too?

He gave a wry smile in response, not wanting to say anything he’d regret, before turning and walking back home. _It's not his fault. Aang wasn't there._ He thought. His apology was a little strange though, now that Sokka was thinking about it. How could he have protected her more? 

_Protect her from_ _what?_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confusion!!! I don't know what else to say other than I hope you guys enjoy.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm thrilled the chapter names did me dirty like that last chapter, but now I have to keep it up. Welcome to chapter 3: chapter 3! Also, I lied about my update schedule hehe.... enjoy this surprise update! I've been working hard to make sure I have plenty of content.
> 
> Also not to retcon my own writing, but I did some research, and apparently, no one asks next of kin to identify bodies bc fingerprints exist.................................................so we're gonna change that up a bit. I've edited the previous chapters to reflect this change, but you won't see the actual explanation for a while. 
> 
> ***TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> Okay so this is a really fucked up chapter, and I'm sorry lmao. It gets graphic. We start off with another panic attack, it begins with, "The employee turns around and at the sight of the red and angry scar on his face," (guess who lmao) and ends at, "When Sokka wakes up,". 
> 
> Next up, we have a really graphic scene that I really hated writing, and it involves someone being attacked with a knife. It begins with, “S-stop…” He begged through gritted teeth and ends with, "The darkness in the edges of his vision spilled forward,"

* * *

Sokka had a routine in life, and it was one that he quite liked. His therapist would say it was an unhealthy routine, that he couldn’t just do the bare minimum every day for the rest of his life, and Sokka would agree if he felt like being honest with himself. He knew that his daily activities were dull, but he found that moving through the motions in life was all he could bring himself to do; avoiding breakfast, drawing and listening to music, taking a walk, and seeing Piandao through most of the week. Dinner and lunch were sometimes included in this routine, and sometimes Hakoda would attempt small talk with him.

Piandao had sometimes suggested Sokka go back to school, or maybe try to take up a new hobby. They were always light suggestions, and he found himself shutting them down without a second thought. He didn’t have a job and had no plans to get one, so he couldn’t afford to go back to school. He could barely even focus anything without slipping into a self-destructive cycle of hating Aang and missing his sister, so how could he expect to focus on a job _and_ university classes. It just didn’t seem possible. 

So he didn’t change anything. It didn’t bother him, either. He liked his routine and had intentions to follow it indefinitely. 

Today was one of those days where he’d been following his routine to a T, and he was on his way to Piandao’s. It was essentially a straight path once he got off his neighbourhood drive, and every day that Sokka walked down it, it was the same. He'd pass the same older man getting into his car for work, and he’d watch the same lady sending her kids off on their school bus. It was always a pleasant walk.

Some things had to change in his routine, as not everything was within his control. Sometimes the lady only sent off one kid, and sometimes the older man was rushing out in his pajamas instead of his work clothes. Sometimes he’d pass a stray cat, or a bird would fly overhead, but Sokka himself never strayed from his routine. 

It was with this mindset that Sokka rounded the corner and walked straight into a potted plant. 

“No, no, no-!” The tall plant teetered in front of him, and Sokka wrapped his arms around it, making sure it didn’t fall. When himself and the plant were steady, he released it and stepped back, wincing at the damage he’d done to the foliage. After looking around to be sure no one had seen what happened, Sokka glanced at the shop it was standing outside.

The little shop had no distinguishable features from the outside, other than a wooden sign protruding from the wall and the greenery Sokka had run into. The sign had a carefully painted dragon sipping out of a teacup, and the words _The Jasmine Dragon_ _Tea_ written in gold calligraphy.

The smell of freshly baked pastry filled the air around him, and Sokka’s stomach gave an angry grumble, reminding him of his uneaten breakfast. Some tea would likely fill him up, and he also felt the need apologise for the plant outside. After counting his change, he headed inside.

Upon entering, he was met with a tinkling bell and a minimalistic approach to the café scene; the only decorations were some similar-looking plants to the one outside, and the occasional flower vase on one of the many tables. At the back of the shop, there was a counter with a register, and a lone employee with his back turned, writing on a chalkboard. 

“Hey man,” Sokka started, walking up towards the counter, “I may have accidentally crushed that plant you keep outside, I think it’s fine, but I definitely almost knocked it over and some leaves _may_ be a little smushed.” 

The employee turned around, and at the sight of the red and angry scar on his face, Sokka's heart stopped. He'd only ever seen facial trauma this bad once before, and he loses focus. The man’s mouth was moving, but Sokka wasn't listening.

He’s no longer in the tea shop. He’s suddenly standing in the snow, begging his Dad to look at him, to please go and see Katara and see if she’s okay. Sokka’s trudging through the uneven terrain towards her. There are snowflakes in her hair; he’s trying not to hurt her as he flips her over, pretending she’s okay, that in a moment she'll glare at him and insist she's okay to get up herself. The broken bones, the skin, the _blood,_ it’s not right. She can't be dead. He can’t hear anything, the wind is too loud, is somebody screaming? 

Suddenly Sokka was back in the tea shop, the scarred employee closer now, saying something to him. 

Sokka blinked a few times before leaning both hands on the counter, taking a few short breaths. A second person entered his field of view, their voice the first to be heard,

“Are you alright, young man?” It was gravely and old, laced with concern. Sokka turned to see a short older man staring at him. "Please, come take a seat." 

Sokka allowed himself to be led to a small table closest to the counter, sitting down in the wooden chair just as the panic began to set in. Shaky hands gripped the edge of the table as he lowered his head down, resting his forehead on the cool surface. _This can't be happening._

“Zuko, grab a cup of the chamomile, and some jook. Please, grab a cool rag as well.” The older man said quietly. Sokka closed his eyes, trying to focus on something, anything to keep him from having a panic attack. His breathing just wouldn't slow down, though, and his heart refused to stop trying to escape his rib cage. 

A hand came down on his shoulder gently, prompting Sokka to turn his head to the left. He opened his eyes to see a rounded, elderly face smiling down at him,

“My nephew is getting some things to assist you in this process,” The man said softly, “My name is Iroh, and my nephew is named Zuko. What is your name, young man?” 

Sokka tried to swallow, his mouth dry and cottony, “Sokka,” he said, and then, “Please, I need to go. Piandao-" 

“It is nice to meet you, Sokka," Iroh interrupted gently. "I’m sure Piandao can wait. Would you like to do an exercise with me?” He asked and offered another warm smile. Sokka felt confused at Iroh's offer, not fully understanding how this was going to help him in any way.

Iroh continued, “I am going to breathe deeply, and I would like you to try and match my breaths. In order to relax, your breathing must become regulated.” 

So that was what he wanted. Sokka nodded as best he could with his head still on the table. Iroh smiled warmly, beginning the exercise.

He took a deep breath in, making an effort to puff out his chest so Sokka could see, letting it out slowly. Sokka joined in on the second go, his diaphragm flexing uncontrollably. He hiccuped and choked, hot tears rolling down his cheeks. 

Iroh smiled reassuringly, “You are doing so well, breathe in… and out…” 

Sokka tried again, forcing himself to hold his breath after a quick inhale. It hurt and burned his lungs as he made his body work for him, releasing the breath with Iroh as slowly as he could.

“You’re doing a wonderful job. Remember that you are safe, and it is just your thoughts against you. Breathe in…” 

He took in another breath, bigger this time, and held it again. This time when he released, it was in time with Iroh saying, “Breathe out…” 

They continued with this, and after a few moments, Sokka was breathing in tandem with the older man; still a bit shaky and hiccuping every so often, but no longer hyperventilating. 

“That was excellent, I am very proud of you Sokka,” Iroh said, and let his own breathing go back to normal, “I have a question for you, young man. Do you take any medication for this process?” He prompted. Sokka shook his head no. 

Iroh nodded, “How are you feeling now?” 

He felt like he was stuck in a sauna with a winter coat on, “Hot,” he replied, and then closed his eyes again, “Sick. Piandao-” 

“I will fetch you a bucket,” Iroh interrupted, “Would you like me to stay with you until my nephew returns?” He was being so kind, even if he was ignoring Sokka’s requests for Piandao.

In regards to Iroh’s question, Sokka shook his head no. He felt more relaxed from before and knew he'd be okay in a few minutes. 

Iroh patted his shoulder gently before getting up from his chair, walking out of view. 

Once gone, Sokka let out another shaky breath. He stayed focused on his breathing, trying his best to fill his lungs and empty them gently. After a moment, he no longer has to think about it, and his breathing stays regulated. He could still feel tears running slowly down his cheeks, a tightness in his heart when he remembered his sister, but that was fine. The pain wasn't important. 

After a few moments, he heard the door from before open again, footsteps approaching his table. Two dishes were set down beside his head.

Looking up, he saw Zuko, Iroh's nephew, standing beside him with a damp rag in his hands. There was a cup of tea, and a bowl filled with some kind of porridge in front of Sokka’s face, radiating a nauseating warmth. 

As if sensing his discomfort, Zuko moved the dish away from his face and handed Sokka the rag. Sokka took it with fumbling fingers, unrolling it and draping it over his face haphazardly. He sighed in relief, the cool temperature chilling him nicely.

After a moment the rag was removed, and Sokka watched Zuko carefully fold it again, applying it gently to Sokka's forehead. It’s a little awkward because Sokka’s resting on one cheek, causing the rag to slide down his forehead slowly, but Zuko just took a seat beside him, adjusting it every few seconds. 

He hoped Zuko didn't notice his blush. 

Iroh returned at that moment, a plain white bucket in his hands, “Thank you Zuko, for grabbing those items. How is our friend doing?” He asked, whispering something else that Sokka doesn’t hear. Zuko blushed brightly, turning to glare at his Uncle. 

“ _Uncle._ ” He hissed, and Sokka realised it was the first time he'd heard him speak. His voice was very light and raspy.

“I tease you in jest, nephew,” Iroh said with a chuckle and placed the bucket down onto the floor. “I am sure you will do fine to look after him, but please try to relocate him if this bucket ends up being used. I’m sure he’d appreciate the privacy, in case more customers come in.” 

“He’ll be fine,” Zuko responded quietly. “I can sit with him.” 

Iroh whispered something else, earning another annoyed “ _Uncle!_ ” from Zuko, and made his exit, leaving the two of them alone in the shop.

They stared at each other for a moment before Zuko adjusted the rag again. Sokka let himself be doted on, and after a while his eyes slipped shut naturally, drifting into sleep. 

* * *

When Sokka woke up, the first thing he noticed was how sore his neck was. It certainly wasn't something new, often times if he passed out by his door after a panic attack he'd wake up with the worst crick in his neck. 

The sounds of chairs being pushed in brought him back to reality, and he lifted his head, careful to avoid cracking his neck the wrong way. At the sudden movement, the cold rag that had been resting on his forehead slid off, landing in his lap with a dull _schlap._

" _Eugh!_ " Sokka whispered, moving it to the table. After wiping his hands on his jeans, he looked to see the empty chair beside him. Zuko must have left at some point. Sokka found himself frowning a little, disappointed at his absence. He had really liked the other man's presence. 

The events from before came flooding back suddenly, and Sokka no longer felt disappointed. He felt _mortified_. He _just_ met these people, had a panic attack, then fell asleep in their shop for who knows how long. Out of all the first impressions he’s given people, Sokka decided this was his worst one so far.

“Good afternoon, Sokka,” Sokka jumped slightly, looking up to see Iroh standing beside his table. He smiled gently, “I hope you are feeling better.” 

“How long was I asleep?” Sokka asked, and Iroh adjusted the chair Zuko had been sitting in, pushing it in gently.

“I let you rest for as long as you needed, which was only an hour or so. I had a feeling your body would appreciate being allowed to recuperate in its own time.” 

Sokka felt a sheepish flush creep onto his features, “I’m sorry for making you do all of that for me. I had no idea that would happen.” 

Iroh laughed loudly, “I would gladly help any customer the way I helped you if they needed it. It is never a burden to assist someone in need,” He picked up the rag on the table and folded it, gently placing it over his shoulder, “My nephew used to experience similar episodes. I understand they take an incredible toll on the body, both mentally and physically, and can be hard to predict.” 

Sokka could still feel the effects of exhaustion; his head hurt, his muscles were tense, and he felt groggy. 

“I also called Piandao on your behalf to inform him of the situation,” Iroh stated, and Sokka perked up, “He was more than understanding.”

“How did you know I was going to Piandao? How did you contact him?” Sokka asked. He had forgotten about his appointment until now.

“You had mentioned it during your panic attack, and I happen to know Piandao personally. I called him to let him know you weren't able to make it; he said not to worry about it, and that he would see you later this week.” 

Sokka relaxed into his chair, the worry regarding the appointment sliding away. He still felt a little humiliated about the panic attack, but if Iroh or Zuko were at all bothered, they were doing a good job of hiding it.

Not seeing the other man in question, Sokka questioned Iroh, “Did Zuko go home? I never got to thank him for the towel, or the food. Even if I didn’t eat anything.” He felt bad about not eating the food, too, but he knew if he had eaten it, then he definitely would have puked.

Iroh walked back to the counter to wipe it down with a new rag, produced from the pocket on his apron, “Don’t worry about the food, I took it upon myself to finish it,” He said happily. Sokka had a feeling the old man didn’t mind taking one for the team, “Zuko had some business to attend to, but he didn’t go far. We actually live in the apartment above, and I don't mind grabbing him if you would like to say your thanks. I know he would like to see you again.” He said with a wink, and Sokka flushed again. 

“That’s okay," He said, despite himself. He'd already embarrassed himself once; he didn't feel like making the guy's Uncle bring him down just so Sokka could say goodbye. "I’ll thank him for the next time I come in,” Sokka said, and stood up to leave.

“We look forward to seeing you. If you ever need anything, you know where to find us,” Iroh said with a smile, “Have a safe rest of your day, Sokka.” With that, he disappeared into the back with the damp rag still over his shoulder. 

Sokka watched him leave. As a last-second decision, he scrounged up all the change he had on him and poured it into the tip jar as quietly as he could. He considered it to be an apology for the plant and the panic attack and ducked out of the shop before anyone could come out and refuse him. 

* * *

On the walk home, Sokka figured out that it was early in the afternoon, about one o’clock. This meant Iroh let him sleep for _three hours_ in the shop, and Sokka couldn't help but feel even more embarrassed. He would hate for Iroh to have to explain the sleeping adult, surrounded by cold food and a puke bucket. He was just glad he hadn’t actually tossed up his guts, because that would have been the cherry on top for the whole situation. 

Sokka remembered Iroh mentioning that he called Piandao, and figured it wouldn’t hurt to send a quick text of his own to his therapist. He pulled his phone out as he rounded a corner, beginning to type out an update for Piandao, letting him know he’s okay. 

Before he could type anything, however, someone bumped into his shoulder, knocking him off balance. He turned to glare at the offending pedestrian, in the beginnings of a quick, “watch where you’re going!” on his lips, but before he could say anything, he blinked, glancing around the empty sidewalk. 

There was no one there.

There was really no one around him; the only human being in his vicinity was a man across the street mowing his lawn. 

_Weird_. 

He turned back to face his cell phone, deciding to wait until he gets home to text Piandao; he was clearly unable to pay attention to both his phone and his surroundings.

Stuffing the phone back into his jacket pocket, he starts walking again, running right into someone else.

This time Sokka couldn't blame his cell phone for distracting him.

“I’m so sorry!” He said immediately, grabbing hold of the stranger, “I wasn’t looking, are you okay?”

A beat of silence passed after his question, and Sokka released the stranger.

The stranger was a woman about a head shorter than him, dressed in all black with a very large hat, concealing her face. Over her dress, she wore a long dark cape that brushed the tips of her boots and concealed most of her hands, and he could barely see the silk gloves she had on.

Sokka frowned at the stranger, “Hey, are you okay?" He asked. For the second time in a row, she ignored him, and Sokka rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "I'll uh, get out of your way." He said and went to move past her.

Not even a full second passed before Sokka found himself flat on his back, the wind knocked out of him. His wrist was screaming in pain at him, bent at a funny angle and held tightly in place, and Sokka realised he was caught in the woman’s vice-like grip. 

"Hey-!" He started, scrambling to get up. The woman squeezed tighter, and despite her gloves, Sokka could feel her nails pressing deeply into his skin. 

_What the fuck is going on?!_ He thought as he struggled to get up. He used his free hand to try to pry her fingers off; however, he was embarrassed to find he couldn't compete with her strength. She'd cemented herself to him, hardly even budging as Sokka tried to free himself.

“Let go of me!” He shouted through gritted teeth. It seemed the more he struggled, the more she tightened her grip. Her nails pressed deeper and deeper until Sokka was sure she punctured the skin. He let out a cry before steeling himself to _get up_. 

Using his free hand, he grabbed a handful of her cape to pull himself to his feet. He was able to get himself to his feet before the woman’s other hand collided into his chest, knocking the air out of him for a second time. He dropped to his knees and clutched at his chest, looking up at the woman through watery eyes. From this angle, he could see her face; she was wearing a scarf under the hat, covering her nose and mouth, but her eyes were uncovered, and his heart dropped at the sight.

_Katara_. 

The pain in his wrist felt white-hot suddenly like she was burning him, and her grip seemed to be getting tighter and tighter. _This can’t be real_ , he thought, searching her eyes desperately. It was Katara. The same warm skin and blue eyes glaring down at him. He'd never seen her so angry. 

"Katara...?" His voice was weak, from the pain or the sight of his dead sister, he wasn’t sure. He desperately tried to remind himself that she was dead, that this couldn't be real. 

_She’s dead._

She dug her nails in deeper, warm blood seeping into his clothes and dripping down his arm. 

_You saw her body. Katara is dead; your sister is dead._

He _knows_ she’s dead; he found her body. Sokka grit his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut.

_Katara is dead, you found her, you saw her dead body_.

As if to remind him that she’s still there, the woman squeezed impossibly tighter, and Sokka couldn't help but cry out in pain again. 

_She’s dead. She's dead. She’s dead._

It felt like a desperate mantra as he opened his eyes to stare up at his dead sister. 

The eyes were _exactly_ the same. He would know, he drew them every night. He couldn't distinguish any other features because of the scarf, but he _knows._ His mouth opened and closed as he struggled to find the words, unable to form a coherent sentence, struggling to focus through the blinding pain in his arm. 

_Am I going insane, is this a hallucination?_

“S-stop…” He begged through gritted teeth. He struggled again, which was a mistake because she just dug impossible deeper. Sokka cried out again and watched as the woman took her free hand and reached into her other sleeve, pulling out a small object that glinted in the sunlight.

Sokka's gaze felt blurry and unfocused, but even he knew what she'd pulled it. It was a small obsidian knife, covered in strange engravings.

Sokka’s eyes followed the dagger as she moved her hand, pulling his sleeve down and exposing his wrist. It was bloody and torn from her fingernails, already bruising from the pressure. He looked between his arm and the knife, silently begging her _no,_ as she slowly placed the tip of the weapon to the soft fleshy part of his inner elbow. 

In the moment before she penetrated the knife, Sokka prayed to any spirit listening to wake him up from this horrible nightmare. 

They don’t listen. 

The tip of the knife disappeared under his skin, and all the pain from before was forgotten.

Sokka’s gut clenched at the sight alone, forcing the air out of his lungs and the bile out of his stomach. Hot tears spilled over as she kept the knife going; steady and slow, the pain indescribable. He screamed in agony, the pressure still on his wrist nothing compared to this newest sensation. 

Blood coated his forearm, soaking his sleeve and spraying over the woman’s coat, colourless against the dark fabric. She pulled the knife back, allowing Sokka a moment to breathe, and in a moment of clarity, he idly wondered how he hadn't bled out yet.

Her movements were slow as she adjusted the position of the blade, hovering now over an unmarked patch of skin. As she began the process over again, slicing deep and slow, Sokka retched for a second time. The bile is acidic and burned his throat almost as badly as the knife in his arm. He begged whatever spirit was listening to please, just kill him already, and finally, his pleas are answered. 

The darkness in the edges of his vision spilled forward, and he accepted unconsciousness graciously...

…

… 

Sokka blinked, the sound of a lawnmower filtering into reality.

He let out a breath, looking around wildly before staring down at the phone in his hand. 

His conversation with Piandao was open. He never put it away.

He frantically clutched at his body, making sure everything was intact. _Was that… Real?_

Sokka raised his arm, the one the woman had been mutilating, and stared at the sleeve of his jacket, covering his wrist. He rolled his sleeve up slowly, peeking through one eye to see the damage, and let out a sigh of relief at the sight. 

There was nothing there. 

His fingers prodded the skin lightly, touching and looking for any sign that would prove that he’d been injured. But he was completely fine. It wasn’t real. 

_This can’t be right_. 

He’d felt it all, watched it happen. 

It had only been a few minutes, though. There was no damage to his wrist at all. 

Sokka, for the first time in a long time, felt fearful. He wasn't sure what to make of what just happened, and he felt afraid for himself. Was he going insane?

He needed to tell Piandao about this. What would he even say? He couldn't even comprehend what happened, couldn't even recall the pain. He could still see it so vividly, the way her knife had sliced through his skin like it was made of thin cloth.

Sokka released a shaky breath and rolled his sleeve back down. Whether or not he tells Piandao could wait, he just really needed to go home. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so maybe we only got a wittle sneak peak of Zuko, but there will be more!!! This is a zukka fic after all lol. 
> 
> But seriously, our boy needs to work for his fluff. I'm going to wring him dry and let Zuko pick up the pieces, muahahahaha
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha fuck... enjoy this 6k chapter.......  
> I'm literally all caught up with my chapters now. I'm scrapping my update schedule because I'm a fake bitch, but I'll keep them consistent. All I do in my free time now is edit and write, so expect them every 3 days or so, and I usually update in the pm (eastern standard)
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> There's a strangling scene in this, with minor blood mention. The whole scene starts at, "Although, the air didn’t quite make it." and officially ends at, "His eyes settled on the reflection of a figure behind him,". The blood mention is in there, mentioned right after the sentence, " Sokka watched as she twisted her hand sharply,"

* * *

Sokka had been thoroughly frightened since his hallucination, unable to leave his bedroom or open the windows on the days that followed. He’d been cooped up in his room, sleeping with the lights on and drawing the woman in black over and over again in his sketchbook. Sokka certainly didn’t want to give himself any nightmares, which he had managed to avoid thus far, but he was afraid if he forgot the woman's appearance she would seem less real.

Even though she had worn Katara’s eyes, Sokka refused to believe it was really her. He refused to call her Katara, labelling the drawings as ‘the woman in black’. To really drive home that it wasn’t Katara, in every drawing he had made, he would shade the eyes red instead of blue. He didn’t want to alter what he’d seen completely, but he needed to change something so that he could confidently say it _wasn’t_ Katara.

On the third day of his isolation, Hakoda had slipped him a twenty dollar bill and informed him that dinner was Sokka’s responsibility, as Gran-Gran wasn’t feeling well. He’d assured Sokka it was nothing serious, Gran-Gran just needed to lie down, and that it would be good for Sokka to get out of the house for a little bit. Sokka inferred that Gran-Gran was feeling fine, and this was his family’s way of telling him he needed fresh air. 

Unfortunately for Sokka, Hakoda decided to tell him this at 6 o’clock in the evening, nearing the end of Autumn in North America, meaning that by the time he made it out of his neighbourhood and into town it would be pitch black outside. 

Stomach grumbling loudly, Sokka decided to take his chances with the woman in black and head to The Jasmine Dragon, the closest shop to him. 

His walk to the tea shop involved a lot of over-the-shoulder glances. The street lights provided little comfort, and he found himself sprinting in between them to avoid staying in the dark for too long. He felt kind of silly, being 23-years-old and all. He justified it with his recent scare, but he couldn’t confidently say these things aloud to anyone else, so he still felt ridiculous. 

It wasn’t until Sokka flinched at the third shrub vaguely resembling a woman did he pick up the pace.

After making it off of his street and turning onto the main road, Sokka felt significantly safer; the distance between the streetlights was shorter, and there were more houses with porch lights to illuminate his path. He had still shrieked in a _totally manly way_ when a raccoon had practically run across his toes, but he felt better now that there weren’t as many shadows for dead sisters to hide in. 

This part of town was considerably more populated than Sokka's neighbourhood. It made him feel even safer than the streetlights had, although he was sure that just about every person he passed resembled the woman in black for a split second before he’d blink and they’d be back to normal. This had been an issue even before Sokka had left his house; he’d see the woman in black in the corner of his eye, but when he would turn, there’d be no one there. His Gran-Gran had snuck up behind him the other day, and Sokka had almost karate-chopped her in the throat.

After rounding the final corner, and carefully avoiding the potted plant from the day before, Sokka made it to The Jasmine Dragon safely. After making sure they were still open, he entered the little shop, the bell on the door chiming softly.

“Hello again, my friend. It is good to see you,” Iroh was the first to greet him, standing at the counter dutifully. The man’s friendly demeanour was already pushing the woman in black to the furthest reaches of his mind. “I trust you’re feeling better after our first meeting?” 

Sokka smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head, “Yeah, I’m feeling much better since then. I can’t thank you and your nephew enough.” 

“No need, I am just happy to see you doing better. Will you be ordering from us today? Our special is a warm cup of Hibiscus tea with a free raspberry tart,” Iroh informed, “The tarts are made in house by Zuko, and they are to die for!” 

“That actually sounds wonderful,” Sokka replied, feeling the ache in his stomach returning. The adrenaline from the walkover had subsided his hunger significantly, but now that he felt safer, it had returned full force. “Could I also get a bagel or something? I missed dinner.”

Iroh hummed thoughtfully and stroked his beard, “I don’t have any bagels left from this morning,” Sokka’s stomach threatened to grumble at the disappointing news, “but my nephew is upstairs cooking us some spicy noodles and dumplings! I’m sure he would not mind providing extras.”

With his mouth watering at the mention of a hot meal, Sokka nodded his head quickly, “That sounds delicious! I’d love some.” 

Iroh chuckled lightly, “I’ll get started on your tea, and Zuko will be down with your meal. Will you be staying for a while? We close late tonight.” 

“I’ll stay. Thank you again for your hospitality.”

Iroh smiled and gestured to the lobby, “Then please, take a seat. We will only be a few moments.” The old man left through the ‘employee only’ door behind him, leaving Sokka alone in the shop. He couldn’t stop thinking about the seemingly never-ending kindness the tea-shop employees provided to him. The old man had seemed so delighted to see Sokka again, greeting him like an old friend and not the guy who’d had a panic attack in his shop a few days prior. 

Sokka took a seat by the large glass windows at the front, peering past his reflection and onto the busy street. The vast majority of the crowds seemed to be stumbling home from a night out, college students and businessmen alike. The occasional family would pass by, children sitting on dad’s shoulders or running ahead of their parents. Sokka couldn’t see small details like faces and whatnot, but it didn’t affect his people watching much. 

After a few moments, he rested his head on his hand and stared into the restaurant across the street. He could see it was busy; full of people eating food and having a good time. Sokka wondered if Iroh was ever concerned about business; he was the only customer inside The Jasmine Dragon as of right now. _Don’t be silly,_ he thought with a scoff, _you’re probably the only guy to want tea this late at night._ It was nearing half-past seven, so it was no surprise that regular people would be seeking out places that served dinner food. Sokka himself was even waiting for a hot meal that came from Iroh’s personal kitchen, as the little tea shop didn’t even stock bagels this late.

As he continued to watch the restaurant across the way, Sokka noticed a group of young women pass the window. They all had long, dark coats on, and they were laughing amongst themselves as they walked. He shivered as he remembered the woman in black. Even within the safety of The Jasmine Dragon, he was afraid, and he certainly wasn’t looking forward to the walk home. 

Sokka let his eyes unfocus as he stared into the street, fixated on a point in the distance. He could feel his heart rate pick up slightly as his thoughts swam, stuck on the subject of the woman in black. She petrified Sokka, and rightfully so, leaving him constantly stressed in his waking hours, thinking about the encounter he had and when he would see her again. _If I see her again,_ he hoped. 

Another woman walked by the shop, looking in the window at Sokka. Her blue eyes met his, and he felt his heart leap into his throat. She kept walking though, tucking her blonde hair behind her ear as she passed. 

Sokka shook himself a little and let out a breath. He had to chill out. The experience from a few days ago had freaked him out, but he couldn’t let his brain fill in the blanks for every woman he passed. A life lived in fear was no life at all, and Sokka wasn’t about to let some hallucination ruin his week. Calming himself down, he returned his gaze to the street. 

Something caught his eye this time that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Across the way, in front of the busy restaurant, was a figure facing away from him. Sokka couldn’t tell from here what about the person made him so uneasy, but his stomach had started churning as soon as he laid eyes on them. They stood unmoving, the people passing paying them no mind as if they weren’t really there. Someone walked in front of the window, blocking Sokka’s view momentarily, and when he could see the figure again, his blood ran cold. They had turned, now facing the tea shop in the span of a blink. 

It was the woman in black. 

Her blue eyes stared into his, unblinking with an absurd calmness. Despite the reflections on the glass, Sokka could see her clearly. Without the scarf, Sokka sucked in a breath as he recognized what was the rest of Katara’s face on the woman. She looked so young, her tawny skin blemish-free as she had been before the accident. Sokka bit his lip, feeling tears prick at the corners of his eyes. Even if this was an imposter, some fucked up product of the loss of his sister, it felt _awful_ to see the woman in black again. She looked so much like Katara; it felt like his subconscious was tormenting him with these disturbing hallucinations.

After what felt like an eternity of holding his breath, Sokka released his lungs and went to take in another deep breath to steady himself. 

Although, the air didn’t quite make it. The intake he was expecting felt interrupted, half as much making it to his lungs before he felt it forced out again.

His lungs weren’t cooperating. Knitting his eyebrows together, he took a smaller breath and found it was just as difficult, but manageable. Every breath in felt forced, cut off prematurely, and every breath out was quick and draining, leaving him wanting more. _Needing_ more. He wasn’t getting enough air. Was he having another panic attack? Why couldn’t he breathe? What was going on? 

Movement from across the street pulled him from his thoughts, and he watched as the woman in black took one gloved hand out from under her coat. Her movements were slow, her arm carefully rising up until she was pointing right at Sokka through the window. He stared, frozen with fear, and for a few seconds, nothing happened at all.

Then he felt the pressure around his throat. Long fingers pressing softly on the sides of his neck, nails delicately grazing the skin. Sokka reached up a hand and felt around; there was nothing on him. The woman continued to point at him though, and with every short breath in he found the pressure increasing, the sharp nails digging in. 

Sokka shook his head at the woman, realising what she was doing, and as he let out a pathetic puff of air, her grip tightened sharply, causing him to choke. 

The phantom hand had caught him mid exhale, and the desperation for an intake of air had never felt so strong. He could feel invisible fingers squeezing tightly, her nails pressing deeper and deeper into his skin. Clutching at his throat, all he could do was stare across the street as the woman in black continued to point at him, indifference written across her features.

The pressure around his throat was building and building, and he could feel his body’s alarm bells ringing dangerously as the seconds went by without air. He hadn’t even had time to process seeing the woman, and here he was dying by her hand once again. Sokka watched as she twisted her hand sharply, and felt her nails puncture his skin. Had he been able to breathe, Sokka would have gasped as he felt the familiar feeling of his hot blood dripping down into his clothing. He watched as her gaze shifted behind him, and her crimson eyes flashed angrily; a look of rage disfiguring her face until it barely resembled Katara at all.

Wait. Crimson? 

The pressure on his throat released suddenly and the woman vanished as quickly as she had appeared. Sokka gasped and sputtered as the air rushed into his lungs once more, and he reached up a hand to massage the phantom pain in his throat. Just like before, there was no wound and no lasting pain. No evidence that it had been real. He stared out the window, glancing around the street for any sign of her. 

His eyes settled on the reflection of a figure behind him, and he shrieked loudly, spinning around in his chair to see Iroh standing over him. 

The old man was holding his tea and a plate of steaming noodles. He quickly put them down and grabbed Sokka by the shoulders,

“What did you see?!” He asked sternly, and Sokka spluttered for the words. 

“W-what did I-? Do you mean, you saw her too?” 

“Tell me, what did you see just now! What did you experience?” The old man had a look on his face that Sokka had never seen before, he was so angry. Sokka just shook his head and gaped at him. Iroh glanced back out the window before lifting Sokka to his feet, a surprising strength behind his old bones. 

“Come with me. Quickly.” He ordered and picked up the plate of noodles. Sokka followed him, stunned, to the back room through the ‘employee only’ door, trying his best to make sense of what had just happened. Had Iroh seen the woman in black? Why had her eyes changed colour? Sokka also recalled how angry she had looked when Iroh had presumably appeared. That didn’t make sense, because the woman in black had attacked him the first time when a man was mowing his lawn just across the street. What made Iroh any different than that man? 

Iroh steered him through a kitchen and through another door into what Sokka assumed was their break room. Sokka let himself be sat down in one of the two chairs that sat in the centre of the small room, Iroh taking a seat in the other. Iroh placed the noodles on the table between them before relaxing in his chair and staring at Sokka intently. 

After a few tense seconds, Iroh spoke, “Did you know that woman?” 

The question stunned Sokka, and he once again found himself flustered for a response. So Iroh _had_ seen the woman in black. She wasn’t just a product of Sokka’s mental instability, she was real, and she was hurting him. Iroh’s question had sprung forth a million of Sokka’s own, which he tried to ask before Iroh sighed and held up a hand. 

His jovial smile returned, features softer than they had been a moment ago, 

“Please, eat the noodles before they get cold. We can talk once you have had something to eat.” He said, “I’ll go and grab your tea and dumplings. I’ll only be a moment, please, stay here.” Sokka nodded quickly, grabbing the chopsticks with shaky hands as the older man left through the door they had entered through. 

Sokka devoured the noodles as per Iroh’s request, savouring the burn on his tongue from the many different spices. It was grounding him to the real world, reminding him of what real pain felt like and that whatever the woman in black was doing wasn’t real. 

He knew it wasn’t a great argument, but he wasn’t sure what else to think. 

Twice now, the woman in black had tried to kill him. The first time she seemed to back off on her own, as right after Sokka had ‘died’ he’d woken up, but the second time she had been interrupted. He set the chopsticks down, rubbing at his forehead. He couldn’t get into specifics before he knew what the fuck was going on. He had to figure out _who_ the woman in black was, _why_ she was attacking him, and _how_ any of this was possible. Sokka wasn’t a superstitious person, and he certainly wasn’t used to experiencing full-blown hallucinations before. He’d stayed away from hallucinogenics to _avoid_ this kind of thing. On top of all this, Iroh seemed like he knew something Sokka didn’t, but that was an entirely new can of worms that he wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with.

Iroh returned at that moment, teapot, cups, and dumplings in hand. It was impressive how much the old man could carry. 

“It’s good to see you are eating. How are the noodles? My nephew made them himself.” Iroh said, setting the items in his hands down on the table. He sat down once again, unstacking the teacups. He set one down in front of Sokka’s plate, and one in front of himself.

“They’re really good. Thank you.” Sokka replied, watching Iroh pour the tea. The normalcy of the situation was putting him on edge. Iroh nodded at Sokka’s comment, setting the teapot back down. 

After a few seconds, Sokka spoke again, “So, you asked me earlier uh, if I knew that woman… Does that mean you saw her too?” His voice was small, unsure of himself as he uttered the words aloud. He hadn’t ever considered asking another person about something he was sure was all in his head.

Iroh took a deep breath before staring into Sokka’s eyes intensely, “You have experienced a great loss, haven’t you?” 

Sokka thought of his sister, feeling his face fall slightly. Iroh nodded and closed his eyes, leaning back slightly. 

“It is not uncommon to see loved ones after they’ve passed. Their energy stays alive within us, immortalized in a way that can sometimes be projected outwards in the form of visions. This is usually a pleasant experience, as it gives us a chance to say goodbye,” He said, taking a sip of his tea before continuing, “Please, pardon my intrusion, but what was that woman to you?” 

“It was my sister. At least, it looked like her.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that, Sokka,” Iroh said honestly. “I lost my son quite a few years ago, but the pain of a family member remains for quite some time.” 

“I’m sorry too. I’m sure he was a wonderful man.” Sokka said, returning the sentiment. Iroh nodded, setting his teacup down. 

“He was, and I’m sure your sister was a lovely woman. Now,” Iroh leaned his elbows on the table, looking at Sokka seriously. “It is important to remember that while our loved ones stay with us, it is important to let them go. By holding on too tightly, you can snuff out their spirit and provide an opportunity for a new spirit to enter. These new spirits are usually mischievous and can be very dangerous to your soul, should you let them harm you.” 

Sokka mulled over the old man's words while taking a sip of his own tea. He had half a mind not to take them too seriously; it’s not like Sokka believed in spirits or anything like that. There had to be a logical explanation for this. 

“Iroh, I don’t mean to be rude, but there has to be more to this than spiritual nonsense- no offence.” He said. Iroh let out a short laugh and shook his head, 

“None taken. I am just surprised to hear that you are so sceptical after experiencing something like that.” Iroh replied, and Sokka was reminded that Iroh himself had seen the woman; maybe he’d seen what happened to Sokka. 

Knitting his eyebrows together, he asked, “Did you… see what happened to me?” Iroh’s features darkened at the question. 

“As I said Sokka, if you smother the memory of your loved one, you can create an opportunity for pain and suffering,” The seriousness in his voice had returned. “If you haven’t already, you need to begin the process of letting go.” 

Sokka found himself disagreeing with the old man again, internally. Letting go of Katara was an absurd concept that he didn’t think would help him at all. Iroh’s explanation made sense if you believed in that kind of stuff, but he didn’t know what he was talking about. He wouldn’t let go of his sister; he couldn’t. 

The old man seemed to sense his thoughts, “Whether or not you begin this process is up to you, but know that the spirit following you will only get stronger the more you feed her,” His eyes flicked down to Sokka’s neck briefly. “Don’t underestimate the damage a spirit can do. You may not be free of her marks the next time.” 

The silence that followed was heavy, and Sokka found himself rubbing his wrist absentmindedly. He was sure that the woman in black couldn’t hurt him for real, but maybe Iroh was right. This time she’d been able to hurt him without touching him. What did that mean for the next time? 

“I’ll let you finish your food in peace, but it would give me peace of mind knowing you made it home safe. Will you allow my nephew to escort you home?” Iroh asked. On a normal day, Sokka would have said no, that he can walk himself fine no problem. What the old man had said about spirits and whatnot had freaked him, however, and he’d already been dreading the walk home. With a meek nod, Sokka agreed to Iroh’s suggestion. 

Iroh smiled in response, “Thank you. I hope you are not offended by this, Sokka.” 

“No, it’s okay. Besides, it doesn’t seem like she likes other people anyways, so I guess I’ll be safer with someone with me.” Sokka replied, taking a sip of his tea. Iroh frowned slightly, 

“Usually spirits don’t care for that sort of thing, I have no idea why she left after I showed up!” He admitted, and Sokka nearly spat out his tea. The old man simply laughed, standing up and taking his teacup, “I hope you have a good night, Sokka, and I hope to see you again soon.” 

“Yeah… You too…” 

* * *

Zuko had incredible timing, knocking on the door to the break room right as Sokka finished his last dumpling. He’d assured Sokka the dishes were fine to stay there, and he’d clean them when he returned, so they set off. 

After locking the doors to the tea shop, Zuko shoved his hands into his parka, dark hair ruffling in the evening breeze. Sokka realized just how short the other man was once he’d walked over and couldn’t help but smirk down at him. Zuko glared, his flushed cheeks betraying him,

“Lead the way.” He muttered, pulling Sokka out of his thoughts surrounding the man’s height. Putting his hands into his own pockets, the two of them started off around the corner. 

The walk was mainly silent, which made Sokka wonder if maybe Zuko didn’t really want to be here. The man certainly wasn’t giving off a very friendly atmosphere, but Sokka had to admit he too was acting pretty closed off. He also didn’t want to imagine how Iroh had phrased the question of walking Sokka home. ‘ _Dear nephew, could you please accompany the strange man who had a panic attack in our tea shop? He’s seeing things now, and I really don’t want to be responsible if he dies on his walk home.’_

Maybe it didn’t go down _exactly_ like that.

Feeling his extraverted tendencies spilling out of his grasp, he turned his head to the other man, mouth open to say something witty. To his surprise Zuko seemed to already be looking at him, as he quickly turned his head away when Sokka glanced down, coughing awkwardly into his shoulder. Sokka closed his mouth and returned his gaze to the sidewalk. That had definitely thrown him off his rhythm, and he let a second or two pass before clearing his throat, trying to instigate conversation once more,

“It’s a nice night out,” he said and looked up at the clear sky. “Pretty stars.” 

He saw Zuko turn his head to the sky as well, letting out a huff of air,

“Yeah. Sparkly.” 

They settled into silence again, crickets chirping around them, and the occasional dog barking in the distance. Sokka stepped on a small leaf, a satisfying crunch sounding under his shoe. 

Sokka jumped as Zuko suddenly asked, “What?” Not expecting the other man to speak, he looked down at him, blinking.

“Uh. What?” 

“Did you say something?” Zuko asked, and Sokka shook his head,

“No, uh, nothing.” 

“Huh.” 

Zuko slowed to a stop and Sokka followed suit, looking at him expectantly. Zuko looked slightly uncomfortable as he mumbled,

“Can we switch sides? I uh, can’t hear very well on my left.” 

And _oh_ , that would make perfect sense. 

“Sure, yeah, of course, man.” Sokka replied, stepping to the right so he was closer to the grass. Zuko took up space beside him again, now on his left. Sokka probably should have known that the scar on his left side would cause _some_ damage to the man’s hearing. He idly wondered if his vision was affected as well. 

They continued on, and Sokka glanced at the other man through the corner of his eye. This side of Zuko’s face was blemish-free, pale skin practically glowing under the streetlights. His eyes were an unnatural brown, so light and warm they could have been molten gold. Sokka hadn’t admired anyone this closely in a while, and he could feel the familiar flutter of butterflies swirling in his stomach. ‘ _Get a hold of yourself, you hermit’_ , he scolded himself for his thoughts; as innocent as they were, he’d always been the kind of person to fall hard and fast for people, and that was before he’d been self-isolating for two years. It felt a little ridiculous to have a crush on someone two days after meeting them.

After stumbling over a crack in the sidewalk, Sokka forced his gaze back in front of him. Cheeks reddening, he cleared his throat,

“So, uh,” He started, feeling Zuko’s eyes on him. “How long have you been working for your Uncle?” Glancing over, he saw a small smile on Zuko’s lips. He hadn’t seen the other man smile much, but he decided it was his favourite expression so far. 

“About eight years now.” 

“That’s a long time. I take it you like it?” Sokka asked, feeling the tension from before loosening a little. Zuko shrugged, 

“Well, I like seeing him happy. I like helping him out,” Zuko sighed a little, “but it’s not like my dream job is working in a tea shop. That’s Uncle’s.” 

“Well, what _is_ your dream job?” Sokka asked, and Zuko’s gaze flitted to him quickly before returning to the sidewalk. He shrugged, 

“I don’t know. I’ve uh, never really been concerned with regular jobs.” 

“Regular jobs? What, are you secretly really rich or something?” Sokka joked, but Zuko didn’t laugh.

Sokka cleared his throat, deciding to change the subject, “Well, if you could do something else for the rest of your life, what would you do?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, what do you like to do for fun?” 

Zuko pondered his question, “Well, I guess I like to cook. It’s not like that will ever help me.”

Sokka gaped at him in disbelief, “What? You could be a chef!” 

“You have to actually be _good_ to be a chef, Sokka.” Zuko reminded him, as if he hadn’t provided Sokka with the best noodles he’d ever eaten. Sokka purposefully ignored the way his butterflies from earlier returned when Zuko said his name--because _wow_ Sokka could get used to that--and instead chose to scoff at the man’s self-deprecating comment, 

“Zuko, buddy, I can personally say you’re _great_ at cooking. Those noodles and dumplings were amazing, I’ve never had anything that delicious before!” Sokka waved his arms around for emphasis and watched as Zuko’s pale skin flushed with embarrassment at the praise, a small smile on his features. He mentally high-fived himself for still having his classic Sokka charisma. 

“Yeah, well,” Zuko’s smile dropped slightly, and he rubbed the back of his head. “My boyfriend would disagree.” 

Sokka’s confidence faltered a little but he tried not to let it show, subtly putting his hands back into his pockets and facing forwards again. ‘ _Of course, someone like him would have a boyfriend’_ , he chastised himself a little for getting too excited.

“Well your boyfriend doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Sokka said, and after hearing his own words echo back, he added a quick, “No offence.” He sounded _way_ to disappointed to just be talking about Zuko’s cooking. 

Luckily Zuko didn’t seem to notice, because he continued, “None taken. It’s not like it matters though. I’m content working for Uncle.” 

Sokka thought over his words and thought back to his disappointment over the night menu, as well as the populated restaurant across from The Jasmine Dragon. 

He had an idea. 

“Well, have you thought about maybe cooking for The Jasmine Dragon?” He suggested, and at the sight of Zuko’s confused expression, he continued, 

“You know, like hot meals and such. I’m sure you’d bring in more revenue that way, offering a more diverse menu. I love tea and pastries as much as the next guy, but it would probably be a good idea to have some of those noodles available at a certain time. Like a dinner menu!” 

Zuko seemed to mull over Sokka’s suggestion and went quiet for a few moments. Sokka’s mouth moved faster than his brain, so of course, he kept talking, “It’s just an idea. I just noticed that the restaurant across from you guys was pretty full of people, so maybe if you offered more hot meals you could get in on that action.” 

“I like that idea,” Zuko’s voice was so quiet, Sokka almost missed what he’d said. Glancing down at the other man, Sokka and saw him smiling. “Thanks.”

Sokka’s cheeks darkened despite himself. How could someone be so cute and so taken? 

“No problem,” he replied, and then ruined the moment by saying, “I’m sure your boyfriend could support _that_ idea.” 

Zuko’s smile dropped, and Sokka cleared his throat,

“Uh, anyway,” He started, and slowed his pace. Zuko stopped as well. “Thanks for walking me back, my street isn’t too far from here.” 

“Oh… I don’t mind walking you back the whole way. Did you want me to leave?” Zuko asked, cheeks pink. Sokka frowned at the question because no, he didn’t want Zuko to leave, but also he could have sworn he’d ruined their good conversation and was sure Zuko wanted to leave anyways.

“I mean… Only if you want to,” He ran a hand through his wolf tail. “I figured you probably don’t want to walk the whole way. It’s only another ten minutes.” 

“I don’t mind.” Zuko’s smile returned, and Sokka sucked in a breath. 

“Okay, sure.” 

The resumed walking in silence, the distance between the streetlights growing. Sokka mentally thanked Iroh for sending his nephew along; it was much less scary walking between them with another person at his side. 

“So, uh, what do _you_ like to do?” Zuko asked, and quickly followed up with, “For fun, I mean.” 

“Oh, I uh…” Sokka realised he didn’t quite have an answer. He didn’t really do much outside of his boring habits. He settled on saying, “I uh, draw. And I like to go on walks.” 

Zuko nodded thoughtfully, “So, you must be enjoying yourself then? Since we’re walking.” He said, and Sokka laughed out loud, not expecting a joke from the other man. Zuko’s cheeks darkened again, and his smile returned. 

“Yeah, I guess I am,” he said, and then shrugged, “other than that, I don’t really _do_ much. I used to be in college to be an architect, but I dropped out a year or so ago.” 

“That sounds like it would have been cool. Why did you drop out?” Zuko asked innocently, and Sokka sighed. 

“My uh, my sister died. It was too hard to focus on school after that.” 

“Oh…” Zuko’s voice was small. “I’m sorry to hear that.” 

“Thanks, but it’s okay. It was a while ago now,” Sokka wasn’t exactly feeling up to talking about his sister, especially after his talk with Iroh. “I never got back into school though. So yeah, just drawing. And walking.” 

“What do you like to draw?” Zuko asked, and Sokka pursed his lips. He _knew_ Zuko was trying his best to change the subject, but he was doing it in the worst way possible. 

“Just things,” Sokka replied curtly, before sighing again. “People. My, uh, sister.” 

“Oh.” Zuko was quiet for a moment, and then, “I’ll uh, stop asking questions.” 

Sokka sighed again, releasing the tension in his shoulders, “It’s fine, it’s just me. Your Uncle actually gave me some good advice that I think I should probably listen to, regarding that sort of thing.” As much as he had wanted to avoid thinking about that conversation, he realised it made sense. He couldn’t keep getting choked up about his sister like this.

“He does that a lot. He’s great at giving advice,” Zuko replied, and seemed grateful that Sokka had changed the topic himself. “He’s gotten me out of a lot of bad situations.” 

“Really? That’s uh, very nice of him.” 

“Yeah…” Zuko cleared his throat and pulled out his phone. “Did you want to put your number in my phone?” He asked, and Sokka blinked at him. 

Cheeks darkened for the hundredth time that evening, Zuko stammered out, “I-I just mean, if you wanted to do this again. If you need to be walked home again, or something. O-or even if you just wanted to hang out? You don’t have to though. I’ll see you in the tea shop anyways. Unless you don’t want to come there anymore, for some reason.” 

Sokka cursed himself for blushing at Zuko’s rambling, and nodded his head, slowing to a stop, “Yeah, I can put my number in. Here, I’ll give you my phone and you can give me your number.” 

Zuko seemed grateful for his response and stopped as well, hastily unlocking his phone and handing it to Sokka. Sokka did the same and then set about creating himself as a contact in Zuko’s phone. He debated putting his name with a bunch of heart emojis, but figured that would be inappropriate given how new the friendship was, and the fact that Zuko had a boyfriend. He instead settled on a simple ‘Sokka :)’, before sending himself a quick text and handing the phone back to Zuko. After Zuko had returned his phone, they started walking again, and Sokka could see his house in the distance.

“If you need a taste tester for your recipes, just send me a text,” Sokka said, and put his phone away. “I’m pretty much always available.” 

“Yeah, of course. That would be fun,” Zuko replied and put his hands back into his pockets. “I’ll text you if I need something commissioned.” Again, Sokka laughed, not expecting the joke. 

“Well, just so you know, I base my rates on the value of the drawing,” Sokka started, and Zuko interrupted with a snort, 

“They must be pretty cheap then.” 

“Excuse me!” Sokka could hardly feign anger as he tried to contain his laughter. “I’ll have you know I haven’t sold a drawing for less than a million dollars!” 

Zuko rolled his eyes, a ghost of a smile on his lips, “I find that hard to believe.” 

“You’ve never even seen my art, how can you judge so harshly?” 

“You’ll just have to show me sometime, then.” Zuko said innocently, and Sokka rolled his eyes before coming to a stop outside of his house. 

“You don’t get access to the gallery that easily, my friend,” He said good-naturedly, and then nodded towards his stop. “Here’s where we part. Hey, because I got your number already does that mean we have to skip the kiss goodnight?” 

Zuko stammered and turned red, “W-what, I-”

“Kidding! I’m kidding.” Sokka held up his hands, laughing lightly. There was a pause, and Sokka had to force his thoughts to slow before he said something worse than his goodnight kiss comment. He was caught up in the banter and could feel his attitude shifting towards confident-flirty-Sokka. 

“Right… I’ll uh, see you around?” Zuko asked, and Sokka smiled, 

“Yeah, of course. Text me when you get home safe.” He replied, and mentally slapped himself. That technically wasn’t crossing a line, but would he say it had Zuko’s boyfriend been around? Probably not. He also probably wouldn’t have said the other thing, about kissing Zuko goodnight. Zuko’s boyfriend likely wouldn’t appreciate that too much.

Zuko didn’t seem to mind though, “Uh, yeah. I’ll do that. Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight, Zuko.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOOM. Sokka can't contain his flirtation. 
> 
> So I'm not a huge fan of writing coming out scenes or self-discovery, and I feel like I'd do a bad job of trying to write some interesting, Sokka-figuring-out-he-likes-men-and-women. So Sokka already knooooows he's bi. He's a happy bi boy who still pines after Zuko even tho he's DATING SOMEONE?! Who is this mysterious Zuko boyfriend............. hehehehehe


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi folks, consider this a filler chapter. I couldn't get this scene out of my head, but I also couldn't fit it into my storyboard comfortably for it to be an entire chapter on its own with good content and whatnot. Maybe that doesn't make sense? IDK :) 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> just some blood mention at the beginning, nothing crazy tho.

* * *

Sokka was on his hands and knees, blood pouring from his lips, spilling down onto the pavement below. The puddle beneath him was growing, pooling until it reached his thumbs. It moved and grew like thick oil, each area it touched coated in a slick film. 

A sickening cough wracked his lungs, blood splattering onto his hands. It burned the skin underneath, the affected areas bubbling up from the contact. His hands sizzled and burned, small white scars left under the dark red film.

Blood wasn’t supposed to do that. 

Footsteps were approaching, slow and heavy. Sokka could feel every muscle in his body screaming as he lifted his head towards the source of the sound. 

The sunlight around him was blinding and he squinted as his eyes adjusted. He was outside on a sidewalk, beside his house. The footsteps were closer now, and he could see a familiar silhouette in the light—the woman in black. She stopped just in front of him, and he craned his neck upwards. 

She wore her hair in a bun, black and silky without a single hair out of place. As she crouched, her features coming into view, Sokka knew something was wrong. This wasn’t _his_ woman in black. This was someone else entirely, though he didn’t recognise them. 

Her mouth moved slowly, saying something Sokka couldn’t hear. He felt another cough coming and tried to contain himself before he coughed all over the woman’s pale skin. She seemed to laugh at his discomfort and lifted a hand to his cheek. As soon as she touched him, fear erupted in his throat in the form of a cough. Blood splattered her features, her expression unchanging. His heart was beating faster and faster as she spoke, blue eyes changing colour rapidly. Familiar long nails scraped his skin as she tilted his head to the left, and suddenly it was snowing. 

The cold burned him from the outside in, the light from before shining impossibly brighter as it reflected on the snow around him. The wind whipped the snow around him, though he couldn't hear it pass. The woman in black still had his face in her grasp, and he could see she'd pointed his gaze towards something lying in the snow. Someone.

She pressed her lips to Sokka's cheek in a chaste kiss, before brushing against his ear, whispering a single word. 

_"Katara."_

Sokka awoke with a gasp, sitting upright on his bed. Breathing heavily, he whipped his head around the room before his eyes landed on his digital alarm clock—3 a.m. 

With the dream already fading away, details lost to him now, Sokka lay back down on his bedsheets. It wasn't worth trying to analyze a nightmare he couldn't remember, so he let himself be dragged back to sleep...

This time when he dreamt, it was dark out, and he could hear. He was crouching outside of a castle next to the woman in black from before. She was whispering something to him, something important, but it was forgotten the moment it left her lips. The wind was rustling around him, her words tied up in the breeze, flitting past him before he could make sense of them.

Sokka glanced up, the moon above shining down on the castle entrance in front of them. A massive wooden door loomed over them, strange winged boars flying overhead. The woman in black tugged at his sleeve, and he looked down to see her shaking her head no. He followed her hand as she pointed to a small hole in the castle wall, unprotected and unsupervised. He nodded in response.

Using the cover of the shadows, and the tall grass that seemed to follow them, Sokka and the woman in black snuck over to the hole in the wall. Sokka went first, silently slipping through the impossibly small hole, with the woman in black close behind.

Inside the castle, it was quiet and impossibly dark. The woman in black grabbed his sleeve, tugging him down to a crouch, and he felt her lips brush his ear,

_“We need to do this quickly and quietly. She won’t let me keep you here for long.”_

Sokka nodded again and set off in a direction he felt was correct. He could sense the woman in black behind him, her soft footsteps the only sound in the darkness of the castle. 

After what felt like an eternity of walking, he heard muffled voices and looked down at his feet. He was standing over a grate, light spilling up and out from the room below. The woman in black tugged his sleeve again, and he crouched beside her, peering through the bars. 

It was a ballroom. The floor was made of glossy white marble, with a long plush carpet rolled down the centre. Huge windows could be seen on one side of the room, with velvet curtains framing them dramatically. Various candles lined the opposite wall, casting a pale orange glow that reflected on the polished floor.

Confirming the coast was clear, the source of the voices nowhere to be seen, the woman in black removed the grate and jumped down. Sokka followed suit, landing on the carpet with a soft thud. 

_“Hush! Don’t you know how difficult it is to maintain the veil? You can’t make a single sound.”_

Sokka knew this already. He’d have to be more careful. 

The two of them padded down the carpet, reaching the end of the room. Here there was a large mirror, spanning the distance from the floor to ceiling. Sokka paid no mind to the woman's missing reflection.

_“Step into the mirror. We’ll be safe here.”_

He complied. 

Once they were both safely behind the glass, the woman in black clutched his hand tightly. 

_“Don’t say a word now. Don’t even breathe. I don’t know how long she’ll let this go on.”_

Sokka nodded once more, the door at the other end of the room opening as he did so. The candles to the left extinguished suddenly, and as they did the room changed. The velvet curtains hung loosely, tattered and torn. The glossy marble was now cracked and dull, lacking the lustre from before. Two figures marched towards the mirror, an impossibly tall man and a petite woman trailing behind. As they approached, Sokka noticed the man's broad shoulders, muscles rippling under his plain black suit. His eyes blazed with an animalistic fury, seemingly directed right at Sokka. Sokka didn't know how safe he felt behind the mirror, and his gaze shifted to the woman behind. As he finally took in her appearance, he clamped a hand over his mouth. 

It was the woman in black, the one standing right beside him. He looked down at her, confusion written all over his features, and she gave him a look. ‘ _Don’t say anything’_ , it said. Sokka tried to compose himself and returned his attention to the room.

They stopped in front of the mirror, the man seemingly looking at his own reflection. Sokka watched as the woman behind the man held her composure, face expressionless, hands wringing themselves over and over nervously. She jumped as the man spoke,

“My dearest, I find it hard to believe you’re having any trouble at all with a task of this calibre,” His voice was alarmingly calm compared to his demeanour. His appearance screamed fury, and yet his voice was sultry and smooth. “This is the second time you’ve come for my assistance. Are you sure you’re not simply hoarding the power I’m providing?” 

“Never.” The woman whispered. “It pains me to beg for these things. You know if I had the strength, if that _pathetic_ little rat hadn’t intervened, it would be over and done with by now.” 

“Now now, are you implying that she bested you?” The man tore his gaze away from his reflection, turning to glare at the woman behind him. Her eyes betrayed her true emotion, fear clouding over them as she stammered out her response,

“No, I- you _know_ that I-” 

She was interrupted, the man offering a quiet, "Hush, darling," grabbing her chin gently. His hands dwarfed her. The woman began to cry softly, and he stroked her jaw with his thumb. 

“I won’t have that kind of behaviour, you know. Excuses are for the weak, and you are not weak.” He said lowly, and the woman nodded curtly, her lower lip quivering. Sokka watched as his grip tightened ever so slightly. “You are, however, forgetful. How long were you going to let this go on for?” 

The woman’s eyes flickered briefly to Sokka’s, and he held his breath. He felt the woman in black beside him squeeze his hand in warning. 

“Answer me.” The man warned, and the woman swallowed thickly.

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Don’t lie to me!” The man yelled, and both women in black flinched. Sokka watched as the man yanked his hand away, turning back to the mirror. He met Sokka’s eyes this time, lips upturned in a sneer. Sokka couldn't help but sweat a little under his gaze.

“You haven’t been healing the way I told you.” The man’s voice was low and dangerous.

“I have, I promise you.” 

“Don't insult me.” Whatever violent anger the man had displayed was gone, replaced with a cold rage. Sokka wasn’t sure which was more frightening. The man turned back to the woman, producing a vial that dangled from a small chain. The liquid inside was dark, glittering iridescently as it twirled in his hands. The woman recoiled slightly at the sight, 

“It was a physical wound she caused, with- with silver! That hasn't been working-” 

“I didn’t ask,” The man interrupted, handing over the vial. The woman took it with shaking hands. “Nor do I care. Get rid of them. We’ll talk once we’re alone.” He walked away from the mirror, shoes clacking on the hard stone floor. He left the way they came, and the woman dropped to her knees in front of Sokka.

_“She’s going to sever us,”_ The woman beside him whispered, _“He was too powerful, he saw right through the veil.”_

Sokka watched as the woman began to cry, tears quietly running down her cheeks. She lifted one hand and placed it on the barrier between them, and Sokka crouched beside her before he could help himself. The woman who had been holding his hand tugged him sharply.

_"What are you doing!? You need to wake up!"_

Sokka ignored her, placing his free hand on the woman's through the barrier. She looked up at him and shook her head softly, before opening the vial with her teeth. He saw her mouth something to him, and Sokka furrowed his brows, shaking his head _no_. 

"No! You don't have to do this!" He yelled, though he wasn't quite sure what he was protesting. He watched as she tilted the vial until the liquid inside poured past her lips, and suddenly the barrier clouded over, milky white. 

The woman beside him released his hand, her presence moving farther and farther away.

_“You need to wake up.”_

Sokka awoke again. 

He stared up at his ceiling, processing the dream he’d just had.

It had felt so real. The voices had been so clear, the fear he’d felt so vivid. 

The dream played over in his mind, minor details missing, but the overall memory remaining. What surprised him most about the dream was the woman in black. The violence and indifference she typically displayed were gone, replaced with a genuine desire to help him.

He wasn’t sure what he needed help with though. 

What she’d shown him had been especially disturbing. That man, whoever he was, had such dangerous energy to him. Sokka could even feel it now; the man radiated pure hatred for everything around him. Even the other woman in black, the one the man had been talking to, seemed to be on thin ice.

Turning his head, he looked at the digital clock once more—3:17a.m. 

With a groan, he rolled back over to face his window. That had been a depressing sight to see. ‘ _How could it have only been 17 minutes?’_

Sokka had been having a rough night, in and out of sleep with constant nightmares. He hadn’t been able to remember any of them except for the last one. The last dream had seemed more like a memory anyways. The nightmares had been waking him up violently; sweating profusely, heart pumping out of his chest. This time he’d simply opened his eyes and was awake.

Gazing at the moon outside, Sokka yawned, rubbing at his eyes blearily. He considered taking a walk if he couldn’t get back to sleep anytime soon. It wasn’t a crazy idea, as it would definitely tire him out, giving a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. It had been a while since he’d had nightmares this badly and he wasn’t sure how else to deal with them. Deciding to at least get-up and stretch, he untangled himself from his blankets and stuck one foot out onto the floor.

A sudden tap at his window jolted him out of his idle thoughts, and he froze halfway out of his bed. Sokka lived on the second floor of a two-story house, and it sounded like someone had just tapped their finger on his window. 

He narrowed his eyes, focusing on the glass. Absolutely no part of him wanted to get up and see what could have made the noise. It was three o’clock in the morning and he’d been having nightmares all night, he was thoroughly spooked. Feeling a chill, he yanked his foot back to safety, underneath his blankets, and waited.

After a moment passed with no sign of what made the sound, Sokka lay back down, securing his limbs under the duvet. He was too tired to deal with this, and it was very likely he was just jumpy from his nightmares. He let himself settle into the mattress, eyes slipping shut once more.

A second tap caused him to jump, shaking him out of his sleepy haze. Heart pounding, he glared at the window, wrestling himself out of his blankets. _‘There has to be a logical explanation for this’,_ he thought as he slid out of bed. It felt like he was trying to convince himself more than anything, and he found himself sneaking up on his own window, peeking around to be sure there were no ghosts hovering outside. After determining the coast was clear, he opened it up, sticking his head out and glancing around the yard. A figure stood below his window, and he gaped when he realised who it was.

Below his window, staring up at him, was the woman in black. 

But... it also wasn’t? Sokka rubbed his eyes blearily. He couldn’t be sure, but from here it looked like it was the woman from his dreams. and not the regular Katara-double that tried to kill him.

“Is that you?” he hissed, peering down. All he could really see was the dark shiny hair.

The woman nodded at him. In the dark, Sokka could barely make out her lips moving, whatever she was saying lost to the distance between them. 

“I can’t hear you,” Sokka whispered. “Can you come up here?” 

In the blink of an eye, she was hovering in front of his face. Sokka jumped back with an ‘ _eep!’_ , falling back into his bedroom. 

“Some warning next time would be nice,” He muttered, taking a step back towards the window.

The hairs on the back of Sokka’s neck suddenly raised up, and he froze. The energy in his room had changed; it felt twisted and dark, and the temperature had dropped significantly. He looked at the woman, finally seeing her features up close.

It was Katara. 

It wasn’t the dream woman in black, this was the one who was haunting him. The one who had tried to kill him twice.

As they continued to stare at each other, Sokka could feel something in the air around him shifting. It felt like the calm before the storm, although he wasn’t sure what exactly was coming. He knew had to close the window. 

As if sensing Sokka’s plan, the woman placed her hands on the window sill, preparing to pull herself in, 

“Don’t even think about it!” Sokka exclaimed as lunged forward, slamming the window down on her fingers. She didn’t even react, continuing to stare at Sokka through the glass. "Ew!!" He cried at the sight of her broken fingers, using a book to shove them out from under the window. It would be pretty comical if he wasn't scared out of his mind. The woman instantly vanished, and Sokka dropped the book. 

Breathing heavily, he locked the window and took a step back. That had felt far easier than he was expecting.

Deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth, however, Sokka turned on his heel to get back into bed. 

_“What did I tell you? You need to wake up!”_

Sokka nearly jumped out of his skin as he practically ran into the woman in black. She grabbed his shoulders before he could back away, and forced him to look into her eyes. They were red. 

_“You can’t stay here. He’ll come for you. He’ll hurt both of us. Wake up already!”_

Sokka awoke for real this time, sitting upright, heart pounding wildly. 

His clock glared at him brightly, displaying the time at him: 5:47 a.m. After pinching his forearm and wincing at the pain, Sokka confirmed that he was actually awake this time. That last dream had been _way_ too real for Sokka’s liking. 

Feeling the wall of sleep drift away from his mind, Sokka let out a breath, flopping back onto his bed. Did he even bother going back to sleep after that last one? He’d been considering a walk within the inception dream, but he didn’t really feel safe in his own room anymore, so he wasn't sure if it was that good of an idea anymore. It could have also been the woman in black planting ideas in his head so she could catch him alone. _'Ugh'._

Iroh’s words from the previous day bounced around in his head. He’d talked about Sokka letting go of his sister, to avoid smothering her in his mind until she was no longer there. He’d also said a bunch of stuff about spiritual mumbo jumbo that Sokka wasn’t too sure he believed, but it had left an impact nonetheless. Maybe the old man was right and some evil spirit had taken up residence in his mind. He couldn't really justify that thought, but at this point, he wasn't sure what else to think. 

Glancing over at his nightstand, Sokka grabbed his phone from where it had been charging. Unlocking it and blinding himself momentarily, he navigated his way to the text conversation he’d been having with Zuko a couple of hours before. After Zuko had made it home, he’d ended up texting Sokka that he was home safe, much to Sokka’s amusement. They’d chatted for a bit, mainly just Zuko describing Iroh’s antics late at night and complaining about all the Pai Sho he’d been forced to play. Sokka had been enjoying it all and had even felt reluctant to say goodnight for the second time. 

He decided against texting Zuko. The main reason being it was early as fuck, but there were other reasons, like the fact that Zuko could be asleep with his boyfriend right now, and Sokka didn’t want to put him in an awkward situation. A 5 a.m ‘you up?’ text seemed a little inappropriate, even if Sokka was just looking to talk to someone about his never-ending nightmares. 

So he decided to scroll through social media instead. It was surprising how much time could pass while flicking his thumb over and over, stopping occasionally to laugh at some obscure video. Before he knew it the sun was spilling through his window, signalling the end of his long night. The clock on his phone read out ‘8:47’, which was still a little early in Sokka’s opinion, but he didn’t have the greatest concept of time anymore anyway. 

Sitting up and stretching, he thought of Iroh again. Sokka knew he hadn’t let Katara go, and he still wasn’t sure he could. He wasn’t even sure where to begin with something like that. 

Glancing at the phone still in his hand, he navigated his way to his contacts, staring at Piandao’s number. They weren’t technically scheduled to see each other for another two days, but Sokka had been given permission to call him if he needed, and this seemed like a time where Sokka needed him.

He decided to wait until Piandao was technically on the clock, around 9:30 a.m, and started grabbing some clothes to change into after a quick shower.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps some of you reading this are like GASP I know the whole plot now, and perhaps some of you reading this are like ???? ??? ???? ??? ??? ???? 
> 
> I tried to keep this chapter as ambiguous as possible, specifically the dream parts, so if you're feeling confused, GOOD. THAT WAS THE POINT! It'll all make sense in time......


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hewwo again, please enjoy another 6k chapter! I'm really getting carried away with these LMFAO. Also wow so I've been working on the storyboard for this, and please expect there to be lots of chapters. I don't have an exact number in mind, my storyboard isn't written chapter by chapter, just kind of like scene by scene. I have 3 acts set up so far, consider this chapter the end of Act I. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS:   
> We talk a lot about grief in the beginning of this chapter, but it's mainly just discussing the positives and negatives and stuff like that. Nothing crazy.

* * *

“Good morning, Sokka. I wasn’t expected to hear from you until later this week.” 

“Yeah, well,” Sokka started, fiddling with his hoodie strings. “I’ve been feeling pretty stressed lately. Didn't think this could wait.” 

After his shower, Sokka had decided to call Piandao and ask him a few questions about Iroh’s spiritual theory. He’d never admit it, but as much as he’d been blowing off Iroh’s remarks from the other week, he realised there was some truth to what he said. Sokka just needed to hear a professional’s opinion before he could agree with it himself. 

“Yes, Iroh filled me in recently. I'm glad to hear that he was around during that time,” Piandao replied, and Sokka frowned.

“Wait, he told you about that?” He asked, his heart sinking. He kind of wanted to ask Piandao about this  _ without  _ Iroh’s influence, so if the older man had already talked about Sokka's encounter from the night before, he was afraid it might affect Piandao’s response. He’d heard spirit mumbo jumbo once already; he needed a down to earth explanation.

“Yes, he was the one to let me know you were going to miss our appointment, remember?” 

“Oh, uh, yeah I remember now,” Sokka let out a quiet sigh; Piandao was talking about his panic attack. “Sorry, as I said, rough week.” 

“That's alright, Sokka. I’m here to listen.” 

“Well,” He hesitated. Where did he even begin? After taking a few seconds to recap his whole week mentally, he settled on starting with the basics. “It’s about Katara.” 

There was a moment of silence before Piandao spoke again, “I see. How are you-” 

“Iroh mentioned that it would be good for me to let her go," Sokka blurted out, interrupting him. "I’ve been having a lot of nightmares lately, seeing shit and stuff like that, and I’d just like to know more about that.” He tried to be as vague as possible, not wanting to go into too much detail surrounding ‘seeing shit’. 

Piandao hummed thoughtfully, “So you’d like to know more about letting go?"

“Yeah, and if that would affect my uh, nightmares and seeing things…” 

“Iroh always did have quite a way with words," Piandao remarked with a light chuckle. “I’ve been trying to get you to talk about this for a long time. I can’t imagine what he said to get you to open up.” 

Sokka smiled sheepishly, “Well, it was more like he just kind of talked about his own loss and mentioned some stuff he noticed about me. How I was handling it and all that.”

“He’s very good at reading a room, that Iroh,” Piandao continued, "Well, Sokka, when it comes to the loss of a loved one, people often get stuck on a particular idea. This idea is that the pain they experience is a way of representing how much they loved that person. If they loved them deeply, then they should be grieving deeply.

“It can be hard to keep happy memories alive when one thinks this way. The pain of your grief blocks the love you felt for Katara, and you’re struggling to move past her death. Her death is her existence in your mind. Your dreams and waking hours are filled with this negativity, and you can experience anything from hallucinations to hearing their voice; nightmares too.” Piandao’s words hit him hard. They made a lot of sense while coinciding with what Iroh had said, just without the spirit nonsense. He’d been thinking about Katara’s death nonstop for two years straight; Sokka was just surprised it had taken this long to start having hallucinations and visions about her.

Piandao concluded with, “You’ve allowed yourself to grieve a little too much for a little too long, Sokka,” and Sokka could feel his walls crumbling. 

“I don’t know how to do anything else,” He mumbled honestly. Sokka didn’t want to believe she was really gone and he knew if he moved on, she would be. 

Piandao seemed to sense his turmoil, “Sokka, the resistance you feel is the most common misunderstanding surrounding the loss of a loved one. You feel as though by letting go, you’re letting go of Katara, do you not?” 

“I- I don’t know… I guess that sounds right.” It felt right too, but he wasn’t feeling up for any admissions just yet.

“Letting go means moving away from the pain," Piandao continued. "Katara stays within, but the pain is released, and you can move on. You have the opportunity to create a new and stronger connection with her spirit as you move forward.” 

It all made sense logically, but Sokka could still feel the grip he had on Katara within his heart. It felt unrelenting, denying Piandao’s words access within. It also felt exhausting. 

"Letting go isn't easy though," Piandao said, interrupting his thoughts. "I'm sure you still feel some anger within you, surrounding her death." 

He did feel angry. He felt angry with himself for letting his baby sister so far out of his reach, unable to protect her. Angry for putting so much responsibility on Aang. Angry at Katara for being so careless, getting into the car when she knew she wasn’t experienced enough to drive in that weather.

“It can feel easier to be angry than to be sad,” Piandao continued. “But anger can translate into guilt.”

_ ‘If only I had been there sooner’,  _ Sokka’s anger translated seamlessly into guilt. There were so many ‘if only’s’. If only he’d questioned Aang a little more. If only he’d made sure Katara had packed her snow pants, so she didn’t feel the need to drive back out for them. Katara was stubborn sometimes, yes, but maybe she’d have listened if only Sokka had tried a little bit harder.

"This blame and guilt take up too much of your energy. It causes you to build up walls and shut yourself off from those who love you and are still here, preventing you from really letting go.” Piandao cleared his throat before continuing. “Katara's death was an accident, one that neither you nor your friends could prevent." 

That was what hurt Sokka the most. After denying her death, feeling angry over how unfair it was, continually wagering the ‘if only’s’ in his mind, all he was left with was the hollow hole where his sister once was. Depression. 

“People also often think that if they genuinely accept their loved one’s death and move on, they’ll forget them. This is not the case, however, and I think in your case Sokka you have accepted it.” 

“Then why do I still feel so-” Sokka waved his free hand around, searching for the words. “So- I don’t know. Sad. Angry. Closed off. I made a new friend, and sometimes I feel like if I move forwards with him, I’ll be leaving her behind. I think she would have liked him.” He wasn’t sure about that last part. Zuko was a little shy and awkward, something Katara could have interpreted as indifference to her, which was something she didn’t like. 

Piandao seemed to perk up after hearing this though, “Sokka I’m proud of you, listen to yourself! You’re making new friends; you’re talking about your loss with others.” 

“But that doesn’t mean I’ve let her go.” Sokka didn’t mean to shoot down Piandao’s praise; he was just drawing conclusions that made sense to him. 

“Sokka, letting go isn’t as simple as you’re making it sound,” Piandao reminded him. “When you reach acceptance, you aren’t magically free from the pain. Acceptance is when you come to terms with the finality of the loss, which sounds like you have. Then you begin moving forward with your life, which again, it sounds like you are.” 

“But I’m still so-” 

Piandao interrupted him, “You will be. Grief doesn’t just go away, and you’re allowed to take as long as you need. Iroh makes a good point, sometimes we can lose ourselves to grief and cause unnecessary pain, which is why it’s good to move on; but there’s no pressure to get back to ‘normal’." Sokka let out a sigh, laying back on his bed. 

“If you feel like you’re ready to begin letting go, however, you need to start with yourself. Make the conscious decision to step away from the pain. You know how I’ve been telling you to change up your routine?” Piandao asked. 

Sokka nodded, before remembering he was on the phone, “Uh, yeah?” 

“Well, I don’t always mean for you to change something about your personal routine, like changing your route or taking up a new hobby," Piandao said. "What are you holding onto in grief that you could let go of? How is this stopping you from moving forward? Sometimes we fall into strange rituals to honour our loved ones, something as simple as making their bed even though it’s already been made. Understand that if you have these habits, you can change them to suit your healing better.” Piandao said finally and then cleared his throat again. “I’d love to chat more with you about this during our next meeting. I hate to end it so soon, but I do have another appointment coming up shortly.” 

“Oh spirits, I’m sorry, Piandao. I should have just waited.” Sokka said, suddenly feeling guilty for calling him. 

“Sokka, if I didn’t think we’d have time I would have said so at the beginning. I gave you my personal number for a reason.” 

Sokka smiled softly, “Thanks, Piandao.” 

“You’re welcome. You’ve grown so much in this past year, and you’ve made me so proud. I know that if you stay on this path, one day you’ll be able to look back on this period of your life and be thankful for it,” Piandao’s words had a strong emotion behind them, one that made Sokka’s eyes well up a bit. “Take care, Sokka.” 

“You too.” 

* * *

_ Sokka tapped his Gran-Gran on the shoulder, interrupting her cooking. She turned, looking up at Sokka curiously,  _

_ “Yes, Sokka?”  _

_ “I uh, I know it might be a little late to ask, but,” Sokka cleared his throat. “Would it be possible for you to just make dinner for the three of us tonight?” _

_ Gran-Gran blinked at him. A smile grew on her face, and she nodded, “Of course.”  _

_ “Thanks, Gran-Gran.” He turned to leave, but her hand caught his wrist gently.  _

_ He turned back, and she squeezed him fondly, smiling sweetly, “I’m proud of you, Sokka. May she rest peacefully now.” _

_ Sokka can feel his eyes welling up for the second time that day and quickly nods before turning and rushing up the stairs.  _

_ On the way to his bedroom, Sokka passed her door without incident, the fear and panic from before gone. _

_ The hold on his heart releases and Sokka begins to feel the warmth. _

* * *

The rest of the week had Sokka feeling warmer and lighter; the icy grip depression had on him loosening and loosening. He found Piandao’s advice helped more than anything in the past, and after their appointment where they discussed letting go some more, Sokka knew it was because he’d made the conscious decision to move on. He could feel himself healing, and even the woman in black had been off his radar. Maybe Iroh was right, and spirit mumbo-jumbo wasn’t as crazy as it seemed.

Out of everyone, Hakoda seemed the most surprised by Sokka’s change in attitude, though he welcomed it with open arms. Sokka had even confided a little in his dad. He’d explained how awful and traumatic it had been to have to be the one to turn Katara’s lifeless body over in the snow. Hakoda had been a little shocked at that, seemingly forgetting the experience, and they’d both cried a lot. It ended with forgiveness though, and Hakoda had even explained himself a little, 

“Sokka, I can’t begin to apologise enough for that,” He’d said. “All I could think about at that moment was Kya, and how she’d looked the same.” 

Sokka had understood. His dad had similarly found their mother lying in the snow after she had been murdered. Hakoda had gone through this before, so Sokka had never resented his dad for what happened with Katara. It had definitely made it harder for Sokka to move on because Piandao was right; it  _ was _ easier to blame people and to be angry with those around him. 

They’d talked it out though and made peace with each other though. Gran-Gran had even started to hold a moment of silence after dinner’s to continue to remember her. It was a much healthier way of doing things. Keeping an empty plate and an extra portion of food where Katara used to sit was definitely one of those unhealthy rituals Piandao had been talking about, and Sokka was glad for the change.

Sokka had also been talking to Zuko more, and he was currently on his way to go and see the man at the tea shop. They’d pretty much been texting non-stop since Zuko had walked him home, and Sokka had received a healthy amount of mouth-watering dinner photos. Seriously, the man knew how to cook. 

Sokka also learned that Zuko was weirdly formal over text for no reason at all. He used a lot of punctuation and proper sentences, as well as a few outdated references. Sokka didn’t really mind, it made him all the more fun to talk to, but sometimes it felt like he was talking to someone right out of the Victorian era.

After rounding the last corner, Sokka hurried through the door to The Jasmine Dragon, escaping the cold from outside. It just kept getting chillier and chillier, and Sokka realised that soon his denim jacket wasn’t going to be enough to brave the biting winds. 

“Hello again, Sokka. How are you this fine morning?” Iroh was the first to greet him again. The tea shop was buzzing lightly, most tables filled with other patrons, but the man’s cheerful tone reached him nonetheless. As Sokka approached the counter, he met eyes with Zuko. He was taking tea off a tray and placing it in front of some customers, and they smiled at each other before Sokka returned his attention to Iroh. 

“Trying not to freeze my fingers off, how about you?” He asked. Iroh laughed,

"Quite the opposite. My poor hands have been blistering from all the spilt tea this morning.” He complained, and Sokka was about to offer condolences when Zuko appeared beside Sokka, empty tray in hand.

“He’s lying,” He interrupted with a scoff. “He’s been sweet-talking old lady’s until they giggle and knock over their tea-cups.  _ I’ve  _ been cleaning it up.” Sokka snorted at the mental image. Zuko began to fill the tray back up with new teacups.

“Slander from my own nephew,” Iroh clutched at his heart dramatically, and Zuko rolled his eyes, disappearing to another table. Once he left, Iroh chuckled. “Running a tea shop has its perks, beautiful women being one of them, and who am I to resist their charms? Now, what can I get for you today?" 

Sokka glanced at the menu, reading over the handwritten blends thoughtfully. After skimming over the third name that he couldn't put a smell or a taste to, Sokka remembered he knew nothing about tea, and sheepishly admitted, “Well, honestly I don’t know. How about something that smells nice?” 

“Something that smells nice...” Iroh hummed and stroked his beard thoughtfully. After a second, his expression brightened, “I know just the blend. I’ll be back with a quick sample.” 

Iroh disappeared into the back, and Sokka hovered by the counter. After a moment, Zuko appeared and set his tray down, taking some change out of his apron pocket and putting it into the tip jar. 

“Busy day in here, huh?” Sokka asked him, and he shrugged loosely. 

“It’s like this every morning. It only quiets down in the evenings, really.” He grabbed a dishrag and wiped the tray down.

“Did you talk to your Uncle about adding a dinner menu?” Sokka prompted, and Zuko looked up. “Some of those pictures you sent made me drool all over my phone screen.” 

He blushed before shaking his head, “I didn’t get a chance to bring it up yet. I’ve been trying to put together a list of my best dishes.” 

“That makes sense,” Sokka said. “Honestly, everything you sent a photo of should make it onto that list. They were all amazing.” 

“Thanks.” Zuko put the dishrag back under the counter and set the tray down. 

“If you’re ever looking for a taste-tester, I am in the market by the way,” Sokka said with a wink and Zuko rolled his eyes with a smirk. He grabbed a little notepad from beside the register and started towards the customers again, presumably going to take some more orders.

Iroh returned at that moment, a small tea-cup in his hands. 

“I hope you enjoy this,” He said, setting the cup down. “I’ve been experimenting recently.” 

Sokka looked down at the tea-cup, “Wow, how did you get it so pink?” He asked, picking it up. The colour of the liquid was a blush, rosy-pink, and it smelled delightful. He took a sip, and his eyes widened at the taste. “And it’s so delicious!” It was so creamy and buttery.

Iroh chuckled, “The Kashmiri Chai is not one of my personal favourites, but many of the patrons here enjoy it. It is made uniquely, using bicarbonate soda to create the lovely pink shade,” He smiled warmly at Sokka. 

“Well, I definitely like it a lot. I’ll have a full size for sure,” Sokka said and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. “Do you have any tart specials to go with the tea today?” 

Iroh chuckled, “Not officially, but my nephew made extra lemon bars for him and myself, and I’d be more than happy to add one to your order, complimentary of course.” 

“That sounds amazing! Thank you.” 

“Anything for a valued customer such as yourself,” Iroh said and presented the debit machine for Sokka. After paying, Sokka made his way to an empty table and sat down, waiting patiently for the tea. 

The energy inside the tea-shop was pleasant, many of the patrons joking with Zuko as he served them. A few times a young woman would say something that made Zuko would blush furiously before he'd quickly walk away to another table. After a few moments of watching Zuko run around and get hit on, the man finally approached Sokka's table, tea and lemon bar on his tray. 

“Here’s your tea,” Zuko said, placing the items on Sokka’s table. “I grabbed you a fresh lemon bar. The one's Uncle was talking about were burnt.” 

Sokka chuckled, “Well, I appreciate the unburnt lemon bar,” He said, taking the tea with both hands. He took a brave sip, appreciating the taste but recognising it needed a moment or two to cool down. 

“Uh," Zuko started with a short cough, and Sokka realised he was still standing above him. He looked up to see Zuko averting his gaze, blushing lightly, "I have a break in 15 minutes. Will you be here long?” He asked shyly, and Sokka beamed at him. 

“I'm here to see you, so I'll be here for as long as you want. You should sit with me on your break.” 

“R-right, yeah, I was going to suggest that,” Zuko mumbled, and then tucked his tray under his arm. “Um, I’ll see you in 15 minutes then.” He turned on his heel and walked back to the counter, leaving Sokka alone at his table. Sokka watched him go, smiling fondly at his figure, before turning back to his tea.

Alone with his thoughts, Sokka’s mind drifted to the woman in black and what Iroh had said about spirits. Sokka knew he had been crushing his mental image of Katara. He had been smothering her, and sure enough, some nightmare-Katara had taken her place, tormenting him until he finally reached out for help. Sokka wasn’t sure how much he trusted that it was a dark spirit bothering him, but he sure felt better about the whole thing. For one thing, he didn’t think he was crazy anymore. He couldn’t confidently say he’d entirely moved on, but he could tell that making an effort was the right move. It was like his entire world view had changed. He’d felt restless sitting in his room, and found himself going out more. Talking to his dad more. Texting Zuko. It seemed the woman in black, whatever she was, had finally been pushed from his mind for good.

Making a new friend had also been a step in the right direction. He’d shut out all of his old friends, and most of them had eventually stopped trying to reach back out, for a good reason. He’d ghosted them for a year and a half with no signs of letting up, so it was no surprise they’d moved on with their lives. Suki had even moved down south, after texting him to let him know it was over. That had been the one that hurt the most, but it wasn't like Sokka ever felt motivated to try and piece his old relationships back together. Aang was the only one who hadn't ever left him alone for too long, checking up on him every few months, talking to his dad about him, talking to his therapist about him. Ironically, Aang was the only one Sokka didn't even want to see.

Aang had been the hardest person to forgive, to the point where he still wasn't sure he had. It felt harder than anything he'd ever tried to do. Despite Katara's death being an accident, it was one that could have been avoided had Aang been more responsible. Katara didn't have enough experience to drive in weather like that, so for Aang to let her drive out  _ on her own _ was something Sokka was, understandably, having a hard time forgiving. 

Before he could get into some spiral of sadness, Zuko approached his table once more. His apron was gone, and he gestured to the seat across from Sokka. 

“Mind if I sit? Uncle let me go on break early.” He asked, voice quiet and shy. 

Sokka rolled his eyes with a smile, “Dude, of course, I don’t mind. I was the one who asked you to hang out.” Zuko smiled, pulling the chair out and sitting down, scooting closer to the table. 

“So uh, how are you enjoying the tea?” He asked, folding his hands together on the table. Sokka had almost forgotten about the tea in front of him, taking an experimental sip to test the temperature.

“It’s delicious as always!” Sokka admitted enthusiastically. It was still a little warm, but it wasn't burning his tongue anymore. "The lemon bar too." He added, before remembering he hadn't eaten that either.

Zuko’s eyes flitted down to the uneaten lemon bar, narrowing as they returned to Sokka’s gaze. Sokka smiled sheepishly, taking an extra big bite of it to amend his white lie. It really was delicious, as Sokka knew it would be, but he hadn’t found the time to include eating in his internal monologue, so the bar had gone untouched, much like his tea. 

After swallowing and taking another sip of his tea, he rested his elbows on the table, “So, how’s your boyfriend?” he asked casually. All Sokka and Zuko had talked about over text were food and Iroh’s antics, and Sokka wanted to get to know the other man outside of his culinary talents.

“Uh,” Zuko started. “Good. He’s good.” He cleared his throat awkwardly, muttering a final, “We’re good.” 

Sokka had felt the change in attitude immediately, but that didn’t stop his idiot brain from prompting more boyfriend-related questions, “That’s good. How long have you two been together?” 

Zuko let out a sigh, “Well, we’ve been seeing each other for about six months now, but it’s uh, been on and off,” He admitted, folding his arms across his chest. His eyes were trained on the table, and Sokka could feel his cheeks reddening slightly. 

“That sounds, uh,” Sokka struggled to find a good response to what he’d just heard. That didn’t exactly sound  _ fun _ . So far, Sokka’s mental image of Zuko’s boyfriend was not pretty. Well, Sokka was sure the man had to be  _ good looking _ for someone like Zuko to be interested. Zuko himself was gorgeous, and so far his boyfriend hadn’t earned any personality points in Sokka’s book, so at the very least the man had to be stupid hot or something.

Zuko interrupted his thoughts, “You don’t have to say anything,” He said, running a hand through his hair. “It’s a dumb situation.” 

Sokka mentally recoiled, pursing his lips, “Well, I’m sorry for bringing it up.” 

“It’s fine,” Zuko muttered, before unfolding his arms. “So, what about you? How’s your uh, family doing?” At least they both sucked at small talk. 

Sokka smiled lightly anyway, thankful for the subject change, “We’re good. I had a good talk with my therapist, and since then, my dad and I have reconnected.” He took another bite of the lemon bar, washing it down with the tea.

Zuko himself smiled at the news, “That’s great to hear.” 

“Yeah, we haven’t really spoken like that in a long time. It felt good.” Sokka said. It had felt good, being open with his dad again. 

He looked up at Zuko again, “So, how long is your break? I was hoping we could chat more about that idea I had, maybe discuss how much royalties I’ll be getting?”

Zuko smirked, “Royalties for what?”

“The Jasmine Dragon Dinner plan! It  _ was  _ my idea, and as the official taste-tester, I think I should receive some form of payment.” Sokka retorted, and Zuko actually laughed out loud. The sound was music to Sokka’s ears, and he had to remind himself of Zuko’s stupid-hot-asshole boyfriend to prevent the blush from reaching his cheeks. 

“I haven’t decided on the position of taste-tester yet. I’m sure Uncle would appreciate it more than you,  _ and  _ he wouldn’t ask for payment.” He replied, and Sokka mock-gasped at the suggestion.

“Fine, I’m sure we can adjust some of my conditions then," He said. "Knowing Iroh, he'd fight me tooth and nail for that position." 

“I’m sure he would.” 

After literally spending the entire day at The Jasmine Dragon, Sokka had ordered tea for his dad and his Gran-Gran before starting on the walk home. They’d be finished dinner by now, which he hadn’t mentioned he wouldn’t be home for, so he figured a nice cup of tea would be an excellent way to wind down (and an even better apology for his lack of attendance). 

During Zuko’s break, the two of them had further discussed Sokka’s idea to add a dinner menu in detail. Zuko had agreed that he would put in a good word for Sokka to Iroh, but didn’t guarantee any ‘royalties’. He did imply that Iroh may provide him with free tea for the rest of his life, but it was a loose implication that Sokka didn’t feel like holding over him. 

The tea in question, while great to drink, was not so great when it was burning his hands. He had been wrestling with the doorknob to his house, and in the process, spilling some tea onto his hands. Through gritted teeth and lots of cussing, he managed to get the door open, walking into the small foyer and cursing himself for refusing the cupholder Iroh had offered. Voices filtered down the hall once he closed the door, and Sokka took note of an extra tone laced between Hakoda and his Gran-Gran. He wasn’t aware they were having guests over. 

Padding down the hall, the voices erupted into hearty laughter, giving Sokka a clear indication of who the third voice belonged to. Peering his head around the corner to the dining room, his suspicions were confirmed as he saw his Gran-Gran, Hakoda, and Aang.

“Sokka! You know better than to skip dinner without calling,” His Gran-Gran scolded, and he gave a sheepish shrug in return. “You’re lucky Aang stopped by so your share didn’t go uneaten.” 

“Sorry, Gran-Gran,” Sokka said, placing the tea in front of her and Hakoda. “I brought peace offerings?” He gave her the best puppy-dog eyes he could muster. 

Rolling her own eyes in response, his Gran-Gran smiled as she glanced down at the tea, “You’re forgiven. Just this once though.” 

Hakoda cleared his throat, drawing Sokka's attention to him, “Sokka, I’m glad you came home when you did. Aang was actually looking for you,” He said with a smile. Sokka’s eyes briefly flitted to Aang, who was looking at him with a strange expression, before returning to his dad. 

“Uh, sure, but,” Sokka replied, and then glanced at the empty dinner plates. “Don’t you and Gran-Gran need help with the dishes?” Piandao was definitely right; it  _ was  _ easier to avoid his problems, which was why he was trying to avoid talking to Aang for as long as possible. 

Hakoda, unfortunately, waved a hand at Sokka, dismissing his concerns, “Don’t worry about that, you’ve been helping out all week. Go on and enjoy yourselves, but text me if you’re staying late.” He smiled warmly at Sokka, and Sokka tried his best to return it. It definitely felt more like a grimace. 

Aang stood up out of his chair, pushing it in after getting up, “Thank you both so much, the food was amazing as usual Gran-Gran.” He said, bowing to Sokka’s grandmother. 

She pinched his cheek lightly, giving him a sweet smile as he stood back up, “You’re always welcome, Aang.”

“We won’t be too long!” Aang said happily, before taking Sokka by the arm and leading him back towards the front door. 

Sokka knitted his eyebrows together, “Wait, we’re going outside? Dude, it’s freezing!” He complained. Aang brushed him off while grabbing his coat, sliding his lanky arms into the sleeves. A plain yellow beanie was already on his head, protecting his scalp. 

“Don’t worry about that; just grab a thicker coat.” He replied, putting some leathery gloves on. Sokka grumbled about how ridiculous this was when his room was right upstairs while grabbing his winter coat, shoving it on. 

“So what are we doing? Taking a nice walk in the middle of late autumn?” Sokka asked sarcastically once they were outside. Aang was leading the way, taking a right at the end of the driveway and starting them off towards the woods. 

Aang ignored the sarcasm, cheerfully responding with, “I thought you liked walking?” 

Sokka knitted his eyebrows together, “Yes, I like walking. I don’t like freezing my limbs off. Where are we even going?” he countered. 

“It's a surprise. And besides, you grabbed a better coat, so that should keep you warm!” Aang’s tone was far too cheery for Sokka’s liking, but he quieted down nonetheless.

They continued walking in silence, houses getting farther and farther apart. The minimal light the neighbourhood provided disappeared behind them, gradually reducing Sokka's ability to see his surroundings. There was no moon shining down on them, and Sokka found himself stumbling over something in his path more than once. 

“So, where _are_ we going?” He asked again, breaking the silence. Aang glanced down at him from the corner of his eye. Sokka was impressed he’d not been stumbling the same way Sokka had. 

“You know that clearing where I saw you last week? Just around there.” Aang admitted and focused his gaze ahead of him again.

Sokka wasn’t exactly pleased with his response, “Okay…  _ Why _ are we going?” He didn't like how secretive the other man was being.

Aang didn’t acknowledge his question this time, another strange expression crossing his face instead. Sokka was getting pretty annoyed at this point, the cold of the night adding to his frustration with Aang's vagueness, so he stopped walking. 

Aang glanced behind, slowing to a stop as well, “What’s up?” He asked innocently, and Sokka pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Dude, you’re taking me to the middle of the woods at night, and you won’t even tell me why? What's going on?” He asked, annoyed. 

Aang blinked at him, taking one hand out of his pocket to rub the back of his neck, “I just want to talk to you.” He replied. This ticked Sokka off even more.

“And we couldn’t have done that in the comfort of my home? Seriously, you should be able to understand why I don’t want to be here right now.” Sokka said, waving his hands around angrily. He stared at Aang expectantly and watched the other man squirm under his gaze.  He scrunched up his expression a few times, opening and closing his mouth before rubbing his hands over his face, sighing loudly.

“Sokka please," He said. "This is really hard for me to explain without actually showing you what I’m talking about. Will you just trust me for five minutes?” 

The look Aang gave was so desperate, confusing Sokka further. What could he possibly be this bothered about that he felt the need to drag Sokka out here in the cold? 

After debating just turning around and going home, Sokka finally let out a sigh of his own, shoving his hands deep into his fur-lined pockets once more. 

“Fine… Fine.” He muttered. “Let’s keep going. I’ll hear you out.” 

“Thank you, Sokka,” Aang replied. The two of them continued on the path,  reaching the clearing finally. Once there, Aang sat Sokka down at one of the benches and took a seat beside him. 

A beat of silence passed between them before Aang spoke, “Okay. I don’t even know where to begin with this.” He admitted, and Sokka rolled his eyes, standing up from the bench. 

“Man, seriously-” 

“Wait, please!” Aang exclaimed, grabbing Sokka by the arm. “Please, just give me a second.” Sokka could feel a migraine coming on, but took a seat nonetheless. 

Aang took a deep breath and then continued, “Do you remember when you called me that night, to ask if Katara and I made it to the cottage okay?” 

Sokka could feel his stomach beginning to churn, "Yes." he replied curtly. He really didn't want to relive his sister's accident right now.

“And you know how we had that whole conversation about the forgotten snow pants, and you insisted on driving over to bring some to us?” 

“Yes, I fucking remember," Sokka said through gritted teeth. "I also remember seeing you on the side of the road halfway there and finding out you’d-” Sokka had started to get up again, feeling sick to his stomach that Aang was trying to apologise or make excuses or whatever.

Aang put a hand on his shoulder, “Wait! Please let me finish!” 

“Where are you even going with this anyway? I was  _ there _ Aang; I know what fucking happened.” 

“It was all a lie!” Aang blurted out, before clamping his hands over his mouth. "Ugh, this is so hard to explain." He muttered through his fingers, and Sokka’s eyebrows furrowed as he processed the words. 

“What are you talking about? I was there, I-” 

“Katara didn’t drive herself off a cliff," Aang interrupted. "I would have never let her do that; I  _ promised  _ you I would never let her get in a car before getting her license,  _ especially  _ not when it was snowing that badly.” He explained, and Sokka sighed.

“Aang, this is a really pathetic excuse, and I’m really unsure as to why you’re trying this  _ after  _ you apologised,” Sokka said. 

“It’s not an excuse, Sokka. She didn’t die that way.” 

“Right, so she died a  _ different  _ way, and you made up this elaborate story to cover it up?” Sokka asked sarcastically, but Aang nodded enthusiastically. 

“That’s exactly what happened!” Again, his tone was far too cheerful. 

Sokka groaned, rubbing his eyes, “Right, okay. So tell me how she really died then.” He didn’t enjoy humouring this sick conversation Aang was trying to have, but he wanted to be sure he had his story straight when he told his dad and Gran-Gran to stop letting Aang around the house. 

Aang took another deep breath, “Okay, none of this is gonna make sense, so I’ll start from the beginning. I’m not twenty years old. I’m actually one-hundred and twenty years old.” 

Sokka laughed out loud, “Are you serious?” It was a rhetorical question, but Aang nodded solemnly anyways. Sokka shook his head, getting up for the third time. “Do me a favour and leave me alone. This was such a waste of time.” 

As he stood up, a sharp breeze passed, and suddenly Aang was in front of him, gripping him by the sh oulders.

“Dude, let go of me!” Sokka exclaimed, struggling to remove himself from Aang’s grip. 

“Just- listen, please,” Aang said as Sokka squirmed in his grasp. Again, Sokka felt pretty ashamed that he couldn’t fight anyone off who manhandled him. Aang was barely breaking a sweat keeping Sokka rooted in place. “Katara didn’t die in a freak accident; she was almost killed by a crazy vampire lady who’s been trying to kill me.”

“You’re insane!” Sokka yelled, trying to shove Aang away. 

“Katara is alive! Look!” Aang said finally, and spun Sokka around, releasing his shoulders. He fell forwards from the force, landing on his hands and knees roughly. 

Standing up quickly, Sokka was about to turn back around and fight his way past Aang when he caught sight of another figure in the clearing. He stopped and stared, watching as they stepped closer. As his eyes adjusted further and their features came into view, his heart dropped.

It was Katara. 

This time, it was really, honestly, Katara. 

* * *

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *kronk voice* oh yeah, it's all coming together. 
> 
> Please give me all the feedback <3 I love hearing ur thoughts on what I've written.


	7. End of Act I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a short chapter, but I intentionally made it this way because I wanted the next chapter to be a clear act change. Next chapter will be much longer <3 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> none, some mention of blood but it's just the word

* * *

Sokka felt the world freeze around him as he stared, for what was probably the third time, into the eyes of his dead sister. In the dark, her eyes glittered with life and her hair ruffled in the breeze. She was smiling at him, nervously, and she looked so much like Katara it hurt. 

Because this was just the woman in black. It had to be.

It _looked_ like the same woman who had been haunting him for weeks, but Sokka couldn't deny that it felt so different from the other times; the warmth and recognition on her face were enough to make the vision seem out of place. She also wasn’t wearing her usual black attire; she had Katara's winter coat on, and some plain blue jeans. She even had Katara's necklace.

“Aang,” Sokka said, taking a step back. “Can you see her too?” 

Aang stepped out from behind him, coming to stand beside the woman in black casually, “Yes, uh, that’s what I was trying to explain,” He said sheepishly. He rubbed one hand over his beanie, placing the other on her shoulder.

_So she’s not a vision,_ Sokka thought. Aang could touch her. 

“Sokka,” The woman said softly, and Sokka could feel his heart drop even further into his stomach. She sounded _so much_ like Katara, and the look on her face was so genuine, “I didn’t want to start with this, but you weren’t giving Aang a chance. I know it sounds crazy, I don’t even really believe it myself, but _please_ hear us out.”

Sokka’s gaze flitted between Aang and the woman in black.

Suddenly, the dots connected for him. This wasn’t the woman in black, nor was it the woman from his dreams. 

Aang took a step forward, “Sokka, are you okay?” 

No, Sokka was not okay. He was worlds away from okay. His knees felt like they were buckling under the weight of the sudden realisation he’d just made.

Aang was a vampire, and this really was Katara. Aang brought Katara back from the dead. Could vampires even do that? Was this Sokka’s final breaking point? Had his last shred of sanity finally snapped right in front of him?

“What the fuck...” He whispered weakly. It felt like the world was sliding out from under him and he reached for the bench to steady himself, “What the _fuck…_ ” He let himself drop onto the bench heavily, the gears in his brain working to try and make sense of the situation.

A hand dropped onto his shoulder, and he looked up to see Aang staring down at him, eyes filled with concern. He took a seat beside Sokka, and gestured to Katara,

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to start with that,” He said earnestly, “If I start over, will you listen?” He asked, and Sokka dropped his head into his hands. He couldn't just brush this off anymore; he needed an explanation. He couldn't make sense of it on his own.

He nodded weakly, and Aang began to explain himself. 

Aang started from the beginning. He was a vampire. He proved it to Sokka by showing him his fangs and whatnot, and the lack of pulse. Aang had been turned when he was twelve years old and had been hunted ever since by the vampire that turned him. When Sokka asked why, Aang explained that when a vampire turned a human, they lost a part of themselves briefly to poison the human. The vampire that had attacked Aang was incredibly powerful, therefore making Aang very powerful. Sokka had asked why the vampire bothered turning Aang, and Aang had clarified that it had been an accident, and Aang should have died. 

So for the last one-hundred and sixteen-ish years, this vampire had been sending various vampire henchmen to kill him. Aang was able to evade him for many many years until eventually, the vampire stopped trying to find him. Then when he was eighteen- 

“Wait- sorry, how are you not still twelve years old?” Sokka interrupted. He was still trying to make sense of everything else, but now Aang was taking basic vampire laws and changing them? 

Aang stopped his story, “Oh, right. So, uh, a lot of things you think you know about the supernatural aren’t exactly accurate, for example, 'vampires not ageing'. I am immortal, but if I drink human blood, my body will grow up, in a sense. Human blood provides us with muscle mass, hormonal growth, all that human stuff.” 

“Okay, and... _human_ blood? Is animal blood different?” Sokka inquired, genuinely curious at this point. 

Aang nodded enthusiastically, “Yeah! Animal blood doesn’t really do anything for vampires; it just keeps us alive. I wanted to stay vegetarian, that’s what an animal blood diet is called, but my guardian I was with at the time insisted I switch to human to protect myself. I didn’t like it at first, but over time I got used to it, and now I have a little bit of both to have a balanced diet.” He explained.

Sokka frowned, a question crossing his mind, “Do you actually… drink it from humans?” He asked. He couldn’t imagine Aang of all people leeching off of some poor soul's neck. Vampire or not, the kid was harmless.

Luckily, the other man shook his head, “No, no. Just blood bags and stuff like that.” Sokka nodded, relieved that there were humane alternatives to this lifestyle.

Aang continued, “So, Katara’s accident,” He said, averting Sokka’s gaze. “I thought I was safe because I hadn't been encountering any bad guys in the last two years. Then when Katara and I went away that weekend to the cottage, someone was waiting for us there. I still don’t really know who it is, or if she’s even alive anymore, but she said she had been sent by the vampire who was originally hunting me down. She um, she almost killed me-” 

“I thought you were supposed to be super powerful?” Sokka interrupted, and Aang glanced at Katara from the corner of his eye. 

“Yeah, but uh, I was also trying to make sure Katara didn’t get hurt in the process. And besides, this lady was pretty scary herself. She shot lightning and stuff. That’s actually what almost killed me actually.” He explained, and Sokka frowned.

“Wait, I’m sorry for interrupting again,” He said. He did feel bad, considering he _had_ agreed to listen, but this was making less sense by the second. “I thought vampires were immortal, aside from the classic wooden stake and holy water? How could lightning kill you?” 

“We are, and those are true weaknesses, but there’s a reason I’m on a balanced diet of both animal _and_ human; I need a certain amount of human to be strong. That weekend, I hadn’t had human blood in a pretty long time, and as I said earlier, animal blood doesn’t really do much. I wasn’t strong enough to heal myself.” Aang explained and then shrugged. “Also, this lady was pretty powerful. She seemed more powerful than me, and if she were on a human _only_ diet, which I think she was, I would have been in trouble no matter what.” 

“Ah… Okay. And a human only diet makes you super powerful?” Sokka asked. 

“Yeah!” 

“Okay… Continue.”

Aang nodded, jumping back into the story, “So before this woman could _actually_ kill me, Katara intervened. I didn’t see what happened, but she explained that she used some silverware or something, stabbing her in the-” 

Sokka held up a hand, “Sorry, one more interruption,” he turned to Katara. “You used cutlery to kill someone?” 

A look of surprise crossed Katara's features before she blushed sheepishly, “Well, we don’t know if she actually _died_ , but I knew it was silver and figured that would do something at least.” 

Aang chimed in, “It did! Well,” He flushed slightly, “It helped a little. After Katara stabbed her, the lady turned on her. I couldn't do anything to protect her, and Katara was really badly injured. We would have both died there, but I knew a way to save us both. I let her know that if I drank her blood and put some of my DNA back into her, we’d both survive. The only problem with that was she’d be turned, and,” Aang gestured towards Katara. “Well, I didn’t really want to see her go. So here we are.” He finished and beamed at Sokka.

Sokka glanced between the two of them expectantly, a beat of silence passing before he realised neither of them was going to continue. 

“...And?” He asked, hoping to get some explanation for the last two years of radio silence. 

Aang furrowed his eyebrows at the question, “‘And'? That's pretty much where it ends. There’s not a whole lot else to the-” 

“Aang, Katara,” Sokka interrupted for what felt like the hundredth time. “I need you both to understand that I have _two years_ of trauma sitting on my plate from when I found my dead sister lying in the snow, mangled beyond repair from some freak car accident she got herself into because her boyfriend let her drive in a fucking blizzard. Tell me about _that._ How does _that_ fit into your fun vampire adventure?” Sokka no longer felt confused or disoriented. He felt like he had a pretty good grasp on the supernatural situation, but he still wasn't understanding how it aligned with the last two years.

Aang’s eyes widened, “Oh, r-right! Uh, so that was completely unexpected,” He said, clearing his throat slightly. “S-so, when a vampire is turned, they’re kind of blood-thirsty for a while? I knew that Katara wouldn’t be able to go back to you guys for multiple reasons, that being one of them, so... I figured we could fake her death.” He smiled nervously at Sokka.

“So you’re telling me that your best idea to cover this up was to fake Katara’s death?” Sokka asked dryly. He glanced between the two of them, “Why did it have to include dad and me?” 

Katara spoke up this time, “We didn’t mean for you guys to show up, Aang was going to call the paramedics.” She said.

“But we _did_ show up because I called Aang and he said you forgot your stupid snow-pants,” Sokka said in an accusatory tone. He pointed a finger at Aang, “Why did you let me drive out there if you were already planning on calling someone?” 

"Sokka, it was _my_ idea, I-" Katara started, but her voice went unheard.

“I- I was under a lot of stress!" Aang interrupted, "You called right when I was about to dial 9-1-1, and you know I can’t lie to you!” 

Sokka scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Right, so rather than just lying over the _phone,_ you let me drive over to the pretend-car accident and then lied to my face instead. I can see how that was a little easier for you.” 

Aang ran a hand under his beanie, “Sokka you wouldn’t let me explain when you got there-” 

“Because you told me Katara died driving herself off a cliff in a blizzard! I didn’t _want_ to listen to you after that; you’d already fucked up at that point.” He scoffed again, shaking his head. “I _knew_ this was your fault. And to think I’ve been trying to convince myself it wasn’t.” 

Katara took a step forward, resting her hand on Aang’s shoulder, “Sokka, lay off him, we didn’t do this on purpose.”

Sokka finally turned his attention to Katara, “Oh, you didn’t do this on purpose? Why didn’t you try to talk some sense into Aang about this? You used to be so responsible; I’m finding it hard to believe you had a part in this at all.” 

Katara gasped quietly, her expression twisting in anger, “Sokka, we never planned to-”

“It doesn’t seem like you planned anything at all!” Sokka exclaimed, standing up from the bench suddenly. He paced angrily. “I get that this was unexpected, nobody _expects_ to be attacked by crazy vampire ladies. But Aang,” Sokka said, turning to the man still seated on the bench. “You _knew_ you that someone wanted you dead, and you knew Katara could be in danger. Why didn’t you tell either of us about this, we could have done something.” 

Aang’s eyes widened as he looked to Katara, quickly stammering out, “I- Katara-” and Katara squeezed his shoulder lightly. She let out a breath, looking at Sokka with a pained expression.

“I already knew about Aang," She admitted quietly. "Before the cottage."

Silence swelled between the three of them as her words settled into Sokka’s thoughts. He felt like he was trapped on some nightmare rollercoaster putting him through an endless emotional loop with no breaks. 

“You knew the whole time?” He asked bitterly, taking a step away from them both. His anger finally spilled over, the heat and adrenaline coursing through his veins. “Katara, how could you? Why didn’t you include me in this? I could have helped you in some way or another!” 

“Sokka,” Aang started awkwardly, standing up, “No offence, but I don’t think you could have helped at the cottage.” 

Sokka rolled his eyes again, “That’s not what I’m talking about, _Aang_. If I had known about all of this before the cottage, like _Katara_ did,” He shot a glare at Katara, “I would have been able to help with the cover-up. I’m the plan guy, remember?” 

Aang held up his hands in defense, “Sokka, Katara found out by accident! I wanted to tell you properly, but it honestly never came up.” He argued, but Sokka didn’t care to hear his excuses at this point. He kept his focus on Katara. 

“You’re _always_ getting on my case about secrets,” He jabbed a finger in her direction. “And it’s not even like I really mind telling you, because I trust you. Good to know you don't feel the same way." 

“Sokka, that’s not fair, we _wanted_ to tell you,” Katara said, folding her arms across her chest. 

"And stop saying 'we'. Aang has no obligation to tell me these things, but you're my sister" He countered, but Katara just rolled her eyes. 

"So just because I'm related to you I _have_ to tell you everything?" She asked sarcastically. 

Sokka scoffed, "Don't act like you haven't used that on me before. Remember when you wouldn't talk to me for a week because I didn't tell you Suki and I kissed once? We weren't even dating yet, I wanted to wait until it was official, but _no,_ you got mad and made me tell you before I was ready."

"Well, Aang and I wanted to wait too!" 

"That's not even an excuse! Now you're just a hypocrite!" 

"Ugh!" Katara exclaimed, "You're ridiculous." 

Sokka rolled his eyes for the third time that evening, "Sorry, am I not taking this the right way? How am I _supposed_ to handle seeing my previously confirmed _dead_ sister, alive and in the flesh? How am I supposed to react to a story as ridiculous as this? I think a ridiculous reaction is perfectly acceptable!" 

Katara seemed to falter at this, but her expression hardened quickly, "We should never have told you this, you clearly aren't mature enough to handle it." 

That stung. Sokka narrowed his eyes, “Really?" Sokka said bitterly, his words laced with his anger. "You don't think I'm mature enough to handle this? Do you think you were mature enough when you found mom? How about dad, was he mature enough?" 

Katara gasped and clutched her necklace, the weight of her words suddenly clicking, "Sokka, I'm sorry, I-" 

"No," Sokka said, "I'm tired of this. I'm sorry I didn't have the greatest reaction after seeing you here tonight, but you should know the last time I saw you, you were practically unrecognizable. I can't even look at you without- without seeing..." _Without seeing you lying there in the snow. Without seeing your hair matted to your bloody face._ _Without seeing the woman in black hurting me._

Sokka shook his head, muttering quietly, "I can't even look at you. Why am I even here...?" He turned, ready to storm out of the clearing to process the rest of this on his own when suddenly a hand was on his.

“Sokka, wait-!” Katara exclaimed, gripping his palm tightly. For a brief moment he expected it to be warm and soft, the way her touch had been before; but it was icy cold, and her grip was fierce, reminding him too much of the woman in black. 

He yanked his hand away, turning back to glare at them both once more, “Just leave me alone,” He spat out. “I just want to be alone right now.” 

Katara’s eyes were welling up, “Sokka, I’m so sorry-” 

“Katara,” Aang interrupted softly, reaching out to hold her hand. Sokka had almost forgotten the other man was still here. He looked to Sokka, “I’m sorry, Sokka. I wish we could have-” 

Sokka shook his head, “Don’t bother,” He said, turning away. He stalked out of the clearing, offering a weak, “See you later,” over his shoulder. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew... sibling drama am I right
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!


	8. Beginning of Act II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh okay this chapter was getting super long so I split it in half, and hopefully the next update is a little quicker than this one was lmfao
> 
> No trigger warnings!

* * *

Sokka didn’t end up going home. 

It wasn’t too late anyway, nearing eight o’clock. He also wasn't sure how to explain his current state to his dad and Gran-Gran, and he wanted to cool off for a bit before returning to them.

All of his adrenaline had since drained away, leaving him with a typhoon of sadness, anger, and betrayal whirling freely inside of him. He felt aimless on top of it all, walking wherever his feet were taking him, and he hadn’t stopped crying since he’d made it out of the woods. The loss of his sister had been one thing, but seeing her again, realising all his pain was for nothing?

That had hurt more than anything in the world. He felt lied to, betrayed. Nevermind all the supernatural bullshit thrown in. 

That was another thing. _Vampires_. What an absurd thought. Or, it was a ridiculous thought at one point in Sokka’s life. He was confusing himself trying to figure it out. How many people were vampires? Had any of his old friends been witches? What about demons, were they real? He had so many questions.

He also was stuck on the woman in black. After leaving his sister and Aang standing in the clearing, Sokka realised he forgot to ask if they had anything to do with that. He didn’t think so, as it was pretty out of character for them both to do something as fucked up like that. 

Not that they had any trouble traumatising him with the fake-death of his sister. So maybe they did have something to do with the woman in black. 

Not like he could ask them anything now though. Sokka didn’t want to be anywhere near them, and he assumed they also wanted some space after he lashed out at them so angrily.

_But I won’t take any blame for that,_ he thought, his anger bubbling up above the surface. Aang and Katara were so... Sokka couldn’t even think of the word. Ridiculous, maybe, but that felt like an understatement. He was so bothered that they’d keep something like this from him, and what happened at the cottage was just karma getting the better of them. 

Maybe that was a little harsh to think, but seriously. Katara and Aang were a little too naive for Sokka’s liking, and this was their worst demonstration of it to date. He’d once caught them performing acts of eco-terrorism on a local factory, and yes Sokka had gotten a little involved, but only _after_ he created a better plan than the one they made. He was the plan guy, and it offended him that they forgot that for something as serious as this. The fact that the two of them almost died wasn’t nearly enough of a punishment for their poor thinking skills. 

Okay, he was definitely just being mean now.

Wiping his cheeks and his nose with his sleeve, he tried to shake the negative thoughts from his head. It didn’t do anyone any good to just be hateful. Or maybe it did, and he’d indulge in those thoughts when he was a little more level headed. Right now, it was freezing cold, and the wound was still fresh, so he had a lot of reasons to be angry and bitter. He needed to take a breather or find something to calm him down. 

He kept walking onwards, no longer letting his feet guide him blindly. The wind nipped at him, freezing his tear tracks and biting his ears. He cursed himself for his poor judgement regarding the cold and idly wondered if a hat would have been a good idea.

_Or some gloves_ , he thought. His pockets were fur-lined, but they did little to defend against the icy cold that slipped in. 

After a few moments, he found himself taking on a familiar path, and eventually, he could see the soft glow of The Jasmine Dragon in the distance, wooden sign twisting gently in the wind. He hurried forwards.

In the final stretch, a worrying thought had plagued Sokka's mind. There was a chance The Jasmine Dragon wasn't even open this late. Luckily though, the door offered no resistance, reassuring him that they were open, and the little bell jingled softly as Sokka stepped inside. Warmth flooded into his body, his fingers and ears appreciating it the most. He sniffled, still not quite over the tears, and shuffled up to the counter. 

The shop was surprisingly, and unfortunately, not completely empty. A few students were seated at various tables; laptops out and headphones on, with abandoned tea sitting beside them. Sokka eyed an open booth in the opposite end of the shop, already making his seating arrangements just as Iroh appeared from the back, smiling warmly at him,

“Good evening, Sokka,” He said happily, and Sokka watched as his smile slipped from his features as he took in Sokka's appearance. Sokka wiped at his eyes again, self-conscious of how his face must look, “Are you alright?” Iroh asked, eyebrows knitted.

Sokka sniffed, forcing a weak smile, Uh, yeah,” He tried, but Iroh didn’t look convinced, so he let his smile fall. “...No. I don’t know.” He mumbled honestly, sniffling again. His face felt puffy and runny, leaking everywhere despite his attempts. He couldn't lie to Iroh even if he tried. 

Iroh frowned deeper; forehead creased with concern, “Is there anything I can do to help? Is this about your sister?” 

“Yeah, I guess,” Sokka said with a heavy sigh. “It’s just- family problems. You don't need to worry about me. I think I just need a warm drink.” 

“Of course,” Iroh asked, writing down something on a notepad. Sokka hadn’t even told him what he wanted yet. He wasn't quite sure what he wanted. “Feel free to stay as long as you like tonight. My nephew will be down with your order shortly."

“Thanks, Iroh,” Sokka said quietly, and Iroh nodded in response, disappearing into the back before Sokka could pay. 

Sokka idled for a moment before turning and walking over to the booth he’d been eyeing up, slumping himself into the corner.

After getting situated, he shucked off his jacket and folded his arms onto the table. He tucked his face deep into the fabric just as his tears returned, biting the sleeve of his hoodie to stifle his sobs. Not that he really cared about the opinions of the other patrons in the shop, he was pretty sure they couldn't hear him anyway. He just didn't feel like making a scene. 

A few minutes passed before something dropped carefully onto his table with a little ‘clunk’, and he looked up from his arm fortress to see a mug filled with hot chocolate sitting in front of him.

Shifting his eyes further up, he saw Zuko standing beside his table, averting his gaze from Sokka's teary eyes. 

“Uh, hey,” Zuko started shyly, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “Uncle said you, uh, seemed upset.” 

Upset was an understatement. Sokka felt awful, a disgusting concoction of emotions that spilled over the moment Zuko pointed out his disarray, and Sokka found himself crying even harder before he could help it. He quickly tucked his head back into his arms once more.

There was a scuffling sound, and then some knees were knocking into Sokka’s, signalling that Zuko had taken a seat across from him at the booth. After a second, a hand dropped onto his forearm, patting him awkwardly. 

Sokka peeked over his arms to see Zuko’s hand outstretched over the table. When he caught Sokka’s gaze, his cheeks flushed pink, and he slid his hand back. 

“Sorry, uh, are you okay?” He asked quietly. 

An attractive sob left his lips before Sokka sat up, wiping his eyes for the millionth time.

He let out a choked laugh, the heels of his palms pressed into his eyes, “I’m gonna be honest with you Zuko, I’m really not okay,” He said, blinking blearily. Zuko handed him a tissue, which he took gratefully. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay after this.” It was a depressing thing to say, but Sokka couldn’t really see an end to this. 

“Did you... want to talk about it?” Zuko asked as Sokka blew into the tissue loudly. 

After wiping his nose again for good measure, Sokka sighed, “I mean… I probably should, but I don’t know how,” He replied, and searched for the right way to sum it up. He settled on, “family problems, I guess,” and Zuko nodded solemnly. 

“That’s rough, buddy,” he muttered, a laugh bubbling out of Sokka before he could help it.

Zuko’s cheeks went pink once more, “But seriously, if you want to talk about it, we can go to the break room. I uh, know a lot about family problems.” 

“No, it’s okay. Besides,” Sokka said, wiping his nose once more, “My family problems aren't exactly normal." His eyes widened slightly. "Shit, wait, I don’t mean to undermine your problems or anything, I just mean that mine are a little hard to understand, and I’m sure yours are…” He trailed off, the look on Zuko's face letting him know that he was just digging his hole faster.

He held up his hands, “Okay wait, let me start over, what I _really_ meant is that mine are just a little…” He racked his brain for the right word, “You just... wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” 

Zuko’s expression relaxed, “Well, I get it; my family’s done some pretty unbelievable stuff,” He said, idly tapping the table with his fingers. “Whatever you want to talk about, I won’t judge you for.” 

“Well,” Sokka started, choosing his words carefully. “It’s about my sister. And uh, how she died.” He cleared his throat slightly.

“She had a boyfriend,” Sokka continued, focusing his gaze to the surface of the table. “And he was actually the last one with her when she died. They went away together to his cottage for a weekend two years ago, and he called me a few hours after they arrived. He said they forgot something, so my dad and I drove up to drop it off for them. It was snowing really badly, and I knew my car had better tires, so I figured it would be safer for us to drive up than for them to drive back.” 

Sokka swallowed thickly, “But on the way there, through the mountains, we saw her boyfriend standing at the side of the road. I don’t even know why he was there, but the barrier on the side overlooking the cliff was broken. He told me Katara had decided to drive out herself and pick up what they’d forgotten. My sister- she didn’t have her license. She’d never driven in snow like that before,” His eyes were welling up. “She lost traction going around a corner and broke through the barrier, driving herself over the cliff.” 

Zuko’s eyes widened, “Sokka, that’s- That awful.” 

Sokka sighed shakily, “My dad and I were there before paramedics, and I was the one to find her body in the snow,” He said, eyes trained on the table. “It was traumatic, seeing her like that. She was- She was so _damaged_.” 

“Sokka,” Zuko interrupted softly. “We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to.” 

Sokka met his gaze to see Zuko looking at him, concern written all over his features. Sokka shook his head, sitting up slightly, “It’s fine,” He reassured, wiping his eyes quickly. “It’s why I actually had that panic attack, the first time I was in here. Your uh, your scar reminded me of her. N-not that your scar is _bad_ or anything,” He stammered out. Zuko's expression had hardened slightly at the mention of his scar. "It was just me." 

"It's fine, Sokka," Zuko said curtly. "Continue."

Sokka nodded, “Right, anyway… We found her body, but we weren’t there for the accident. I spent the last two years trying to get over it all and accept it when her boyfriend reaches out to me. He told me that they- _he_ lied about her death and that it happened in a totally different way.” Sokka could feel anger biting between his words once again. “A way that could have been avoided if only they’d fucking talked to me. He practically knew it was gonna happen.” He crossed his arms with a huff, glaring at the mug of hot chocolate.

“Wait, what?" Zuko asked, and Sokka flicked his eyes up to see the other man frowning. "So he covered up her death? How can you even lie about that sort of thing, you found her didn’t you?”

Sokka’s anger halted, “Uh, yeah. It’s hard to explain how they- how he covered it up,” He said honestly. He didn’t know how he could make ‘turning his sister into a vampire’ make sense.

“Do you think he killed her?” Zuko asked innocently, and Sokka scoffed.

“Absolutely not, the kid’s a vegetarian for spirit’s sake,” He said, before remembering that Aang’s version of vegetarian was different from Sokka’s. He knit his eyebrows together, frowning slightly. “I mean, he _does_ have some pretty controversial habits, and he technically _was_ the cause of her death. But also he wasn’t the _direct_ cause. Or, he was, in a way. I don’t know, it’s confusing. Besides, he also technically saved her. I mean, not that she came back to life or anything, but like… Ugh, this isn’t making sense anymore.” 

“It’s okay,” Zuko said. “That sounds pretty messed up, though, and I’m really sorry to hear about your sister. That must have been awful to deal with.” 

“Yeah,” Sokka said sadly, flicking the hot chocolate mug lightly. “I’m over that now, I guess, considering it didn't even happen like that. It’s just the lying that hurts the most. And it just feels like I grieved for no reason. Or, at least grieved the wrong way.” 

“I get that,” Zuko said quietly. “My mother disappeared when I was nine. My father told me she died, and I spent a long time grieving her, too. Then when I was twenty-something, I found her again, but she didn’t want anything to do with me. Felt like I had been grieving for nothing as well.” 

Despite himself, Sokka was a little disappointed that Zuko didn’t share the story surrounding his scar, but he didn’t let himself think too hard about it. It made Sokka happy that Zuko felt comfortable sharing anything like this at all though, considering how new their friendship was. 

“I’m sorry about your mom,” Sokka said quietly, and Zuko glanced up. 

“It was a long time ago.” 

"I get that," Sokka sighed before sitting up in his seat, “Hey, thanks for talking to me. And for bringing me hot chocolate.” He added and smiled softly. Zuko smiled back before his gaze landed on the hot drink, which was now stone cold. 

“You didn’t even drink it.” He said flatly, narrowing his eyes.

“I was crying!” Sokka defended, “I can’t do two things at once.” 

Zuko looked unimpressed with his excuse, so he made a point to chug the disgustingly cold drink, trying and failing to cover a grimace as he put the mug back down. 

“There,” Sokka said weakly. “Gesture appreciated.” 

Zuko rolled his eyes, taking the mug from Sokka, “You’re gross.” He said fondly, standing up from the booth.

He idled for a second, fiddling with the mug, “Would you...” He started, cheeks colouring just a bit, “Would you want to hang out or something after I’m done work? I was supposed to do something with my boyfriend, but he has shit to do and won’t be around for a while, so I have a bit of time to kill after we close.” 

Sokka felt his chest tighten at Zuko’s offer. He wanted nothing more than to say yes, but as the words positioned themselves on the tip of his tongue, he felt a familiar feeling claw its way to the surface. When his sister had died--or, _not_ died, he’d felt this before, the self-destructive desire to shut out all his friends and family and wallow in his sadness. 

Before he could talk himself out of this feeling, he choked out, “Thanks, but I think I just need to be alone or something right now.” He felt more closed off than before, despite their conversation, and winced as Zuko visibly deflated at Sokka's answer.

“Sure," Zuko said quietly, smiling feebly. "Take all the time you need.”

He turned on his heel, heading towards the counter when Sokka stood up from the booth.

“Wait! Uh,” Sokka started, watching as the man turned back to face him. He scrambled for something to say, not wanting to change his answer but still wanting to rectify the situation in some way. He settled on saying, “I’ll text you later, though,” cursing himself as Zuko's face fell even more. 

After a curt nod, Zuko turned and continued walking, disappearing into the back of the tea shop. Sokka sighed deeply to himself, rushing towards the front door and yanking it open, the little bell jingling violently.

As the cold latched onto his fingers and worked its way through his many layers, a familiar tightness grabbed hold of his heart, and he hurried into the night.

* * *

Sokka’s feet had led him deeper into town after leaving The Jasmine Dragon, wandering into an area he hadn’t been to in ages. The steady beat of a bass pounded somewhere in the distance, and the general crowds had shifted from nuclear families to edgy young adults and college students. It seemed like everyone was smoking a cigarette or a blunt, stinking up the sidewalk Sokka walked on. 

Sokka felt awful about declining Zuko’s offer, and now realised he would have much preferred the man’s company over whatever this was. This behaviour was something Piandao had tried to get him to avoid once upon a time, and he'd ignored his advice even then. Piandao told Sokka that it was unhealthy to shut people out when he was in a bad place, as his inner voice would only feed his gloomy thoughts. He needed outside sources to keep him on the right track, remind him that life was going to move on, and he was going to be okay. 

His advice had been for a different situation, then. That was when his sister was dead and had no chance of coming back. Now she was alive, technically undead, and had lied to him for over two years about something he could have protected her from. This wasn’t something outside sources could help him with, and Sokka was reminded that Zuko’s company, while great, would just be a distraction. Sokka was inevitably going to have to deal with the weight of his problems anyway, why not deal with them right away. 

Sokka eventually stumbled upon a tiny playground illuminated by a single streetlamp and decided to make his way in. The park consisted of a two-person swing set and a slide set in a sandbox of sorts, and luckily for Sokka, it was unoccupied. His shoes had little traction because of the sand, creating an awkward gait as he made his way over to the swings, dropping down onto the plastic seat heavily.

After stuffing his hands into his pockets, he dug his shoes into the sand, absentmindedly digging out space around him. Maybe if he dug one big enough, he could just lay in it and freeze to death, and he wouldn't have to worry about any of this anymore. Perhaps the hole would actually be warmer than the air around him right now, and then he'd just be laying in the dirt, looking as pathetic as he felt.

His emotions still felt wild and uncontrolled, but at least he knew what he was directing them towards. The part about all of this that had him the angriest was the lying. Lying about Katara’s death, about Aang being a vampire. He couldn’t believe Katara had kept something like that from him. It’s not like he wanted to know everything about their relationship because, ew, that was his sister, but obviously this was serious enough to include him. He was sure he could have been able to help. Yes, his knowledge on vampires was clearly outdated, but if Aang had clued him in, Sokka could have made the cottage a little safer. He was studying to be an architect for spirit’s sake, and he liked to think he was pretty smart. He could have vampire-proofed the cottage. 

Though, maybe that would prevent Aang from getting in as well. He would have thought of something though, something better than whatever Aang and Katara thought of. 

Sokka was so caught up in his thoughts he barely registered the figure approaching his left, the sound of someone settling into the swing beside him jolting him out of his mini-rant. Sokka jumped slightly and glanced over to see who had joined him. 

It was a guy about Sokka’s age, with shaggy brown hair and a lit cigarette between his lips. His features were shadowed by the park light behind the swing set, and Sokka watched as the man took the cigarette out of his mouth, smoke billowing out in front of him.

“Hey,” He said, flicking the ash into the sand. “You sound pissed man. What's up?" Sokka couldn’t believe someone who smoked could have such a smooth voice.

The guy took another drag as he turned to face Sokka, and Sokka sucked in a breath.

With the light now illuminating his features, Sokka realised that the man before him was incredibly handsome; all jawline and arched eyebrows with striking dark brown eyes. He was rugged and beautiful and a little scary, if Sokka was being honest with himself. Something behind his eyes was burning so passionately, something dangerous and exciting all at once. It captivated Sokka.

“Hey?” The man repeated, interrupting Sokka’s thoughts. 

Sokka shook his head slightly, returning to the present, “Sorry, uh, what?” 

The man smirked, “I said, you sounded pretty pissed a second ago. What’s on your mind?”

Sokka’s eyebrows knitted together, “What?” He asked quietly. “Was I… talking out loud?” 

The other man nodded, much to Sokka’s embarrassment, and took another drag, “You were. So what’s up?” 

Sokka’s cheeks burned humiliation at the realisation, and buried his face in his hands, replying, “Just uh, family problems... I guess.” 

The man clicked his tongue, “That’s pretty shitty,” He commented. “They sounded bad.” 

Sokka scoffed into his hands, “Yeah, they’re pretty unbelievable.” He mumbled, his anger from before returning slightly. The bitter reminder of his real-world problems interrupted whatever embarrassment he’d been feeling, and he forced his gaze down to the sand in front of him, continuing to dig a little hole.

“I hear ya,” The man said, and through his fingers, Sokka saw the cigarette enter his peripherals. “You smoke?” 

“Uh,” Sokka replied, removing his hands from his face. “No, I don’t.” 

The man nodded, “That’s cool. You want to try it? It calms the nerves.” 

Sokka knitted his eyebrows slightly, “I’m uh, I’m okay. Thanks, though.” Yes, the guy was stupid hot, but he wasn’t about to accept cigarettes from random strangers.

The man shrugged, taking a drag himself, “All good,” He blew the smoke out again, a few O’s popping out of his mouth. 

“I’m Jet,” The man said, reaching a hand between the swings. 

Sokka took it, “Sokka. Nice to meet you.” 

Jet winked, “No longer just a random stranger,” and Sokka flushed again at his lack of focus. He had to stop saying the _worst_ things out loud.

“You wanna go get a drink or something?” Jet asked, pulling his hand back. Sokka could see he’d already crushed the cigarette into the sand. “Better than sitting out here in the cold.” 

Jet had a good point, one that Sokka didn’t have the energy to disagree with. Piandao had also told him shutting out people who care was self-destructive and he should avoid it. 

Jet wasn’t really someone who cared though, and Sokka was sure that piece of advice was reserved for friends and family.

_But_ , Sokka’s brain reminded him, _You already shut Zuko, Katara, and Aang out. You don’t have many more options._

Curse his brain. 

“Sure,” Sokka said finally. “I’m down.” 

It couldn’t hurt to make a new friend.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HATE JET he makes my skin crawl, especially the way I've written him in this fanfic.... sleazy gross little man...... 
> 
> also yes I made Zuko's mom a bad person, who's going to stop me??? 
> 
> Let me know what you think <33


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my blood sweat and tears were poured into this chapter, it was so goddamn hard to write. Writing Jet/Sokka is especially hard because I H A T E them being friendly/flirty. They hate each other and that's that. Also, they're both tops, so it simply does not work.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> none, but this chapter introduces one of the many times we will see Sokka indulging in drugs and alcohol. Drugs as in weed lol.

* * *

It turned out the place Jet had in mind was a club. 

A loud, obnoxious club. 

In fact, Sokka had heard the club from a block away and had been silently praying they _weren’t_ headed towards what was slowly becoming a pounding headache. His prayers had, of course, gone unanswered, and Jet had waltzed them right into what was the brightest and loudest building Sokka had ever seen. 

Had there been any identifiable features inside aside from the music, Sokka would have been more creative when dubbing the club ‘the poundy lights room’. Strobe lights were flashing in time with the music, making it hard to see anything outside of a five-foot radius. Sokka could barely even make out the man in front of him as he trailed behind, grateful that Jet had decided to hold his hand. 

Which, for the record, did _not_ make Sokka’s heart skip a beat for any other reason than he’d gone two years without human contact. 

Jet stopped suddenly, Sokka nearly crashing into him, and gestured to what looked like a bar, mouthing something to him. It was just as crowded as the rest of the club, but the lights were a little toned down, and he could actually almost hear Jet over the music. 

Whatever he’d said had still been lost to Sokka, however, so he held up a hand to his ear to subtly let Jet know he couldn’t hear him. Jet appeared to chuckle before leaning in close, his lips brushing Sokka’s ear. 

“I said,” He mumbled, his voice sending weird tingles up Sokka’s spine. ”Can I get you a drink?” Leaning back with a smirk, he added, “Loud in here, huh?” 

Sokka nodded, barely catching his last comment. Inching further away, Jet started to say something else, adding some wild hand gestures that didn’t help Sokka in the slightest.

“What?” Sokka half-yelled, holding up his hand again. Jet rolled his eyes and pointed to the bar, making a drinking gesture with his hand. This was giving Sokka a headache. He could barely think with the music, let alone try to decipher Jet’s miming at the same time. 

“Hey, can we go somewhere else?” He asked loudly. This time it was Jet’s turn to look confused, and he leaned down so Sokka could repeat himself in his ear. 

After hearing him the second time, Jet retook Sokka’s hand and led them back towards the entrance.

Once outside, Sokka removed his hand from Jet’s to massage his temples, 

“This was definitely the worst spot you could have picked,” He commented. “I could barely hear my own thoughts in there.” 

“Honestly, I wasn’t really expecting to talk much,” Jet muttered, taking another cigarette out from his coat. He stuck it in his mouth and produced a lighter from another pocket. 

Sokka scoffed, “We weren’t really talking at all, we were yelling. Also, usually when someone says they want to ‘get drinks’ with someone, talking is sort of included.” 

Jet took a few puffs from the now-lit cigarette before pointing at Sokka, “Alright, you make a good point. I have another place in mind,” He said and nodded his head in what Sokka assumed was the direction of the next place. “Come on.” 

“Considering _that_ was your first choice, I’m not looking forward to the second,” Sokka muttered, starting in the direction Jet was nodding in.

Jet laughed, falling into step beside him, “Alright, old man, relax. If it makes you feel any better, the place we’re going to is very old-fashioned; perfect for grouchy old farts like yourself.”

"Hey, not wanting my eardrums blasted out does _not_ make me old-fashioned,” Sokka defended. “Sue me for wanting to get to know the random guy taking me out for drinks on this fine autumn evening.” 

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry,” said Jet with a laugh. “I will say though, most of my first dates don’t usually start with so much talking, so that’s my bad for assuming.” 

Sokka blinked. _A first date? When was_ that _decided?_

So maybe Sokka was a _little_ old-fashioned. He liked the whole ‘being asked out/asking someone out’ on a date thing; the courting, the flowers, he loved it all. Just asking someone out for drinks and calling it a date halfway through didn’t really seem to be up Sokka’s alley. 

Besides, based on what Jet had implied, Sokka had concluded that perhaps Jet was looking for a good fuck. Again, not like Sokka had a problem with that, but he liked these things to be discussed beforehand. 

“A date?” Sokka finally asked, turning to Jet. “Is that what this is?” 

Jet shrugged, puffing out some smoke, “I was just teasing really, it’s cool if you’re not into that.” 

Sokka shook his head, “No, I just- I don’t know, maybe it’s because I haven’t been on a date in a while, but I’m used to actually being asked out. Or, doing the asking. You know, talking. Consent.” 

Jet smirked, “Well, Sokka, would you-” 

“I _meant_ ,” Sokka interrupted, giving Jet a pointed look. “By people that I know. You’re still technically a stranger.” 

“Well _technically,_ we're already on a date,” Jet countered. “We’re going out for drinks, we’re both interested, and we plan on getting to know each other. That’s a date.” 

Sokka frowned slightly at Jet’s assumption, “What do you mean ‘we’re both interested’? I never said that,” He said, and shook his head. “This is why talking is essential. Imagine if we got in this mix-up back there." 

“Alright, maybe that was a little forward,” Jet admitted with a wink. “Let’s go then; we’ll get to know each other somewhere a little quieter.” 

While Sokka still didn’t fully believe that Jet understood his concern, he was grateful the other man was complying with his requests. The second place they went to was actually a bar this time, no loud music or strobe lights in sight. 

The bar was called ‘Ale House’, and it was built like an old-timey saloon. The front door was painted to look like batwing doors, and inside the floors and walls were all hardwood. Small chandeliers were dotted on the ceiling, casting a warm hazy glow around the room. This, paired with the light buzz of conversation and laughter, made the bar very cozy to be in. 

“Wow, you weren’t kidding when you said this was old-fashioned,” Sokka commented as Jet led them towards a table. 

Jet chuckled, “Nope, this is as old as it gets,” He gestured to a small wooden table for two. “You take a seat, and I’ll get us some drinks. Any requests?”

Sokka shrugged, sliding himself into the rickety seat and getting comfortable, “Nothing too strong,” He said. “It’s been a while, so I should probably take it slow.” 

Jet winked, “We’ll go as slow as you need, baby.” He blew a fake kiss, and Sokka rolled his eyes.

“Shut up and go get me alcohol,” Sokka said while shaking his head. “And get your mind out of the gutter!” 

“You made that too easy Sokka,” said Jet over his shoulder, before disappearing towards the bar.

Sokka rolled his eyes and let his gaze wander around the rest of the room once Jet was out of view. Sokka much preferred this kind of environment; the ambience of the bar was quiet enough that he could actually hear himself _think_ , and the only music that could be heard was some classic piano being played over crackling speakers. It was kind of a shit bar if Sokka was honest, but it was way more enjoyable than the first. 

His mind wandered to Jet as he sat. There was something about Jet that made Sokka a little cautious. The man was crass, a little obnoxious, and he always smirked like he was hiding something; at the same time, however, Jet was actually kind of thoughtful. He _had_ picked out a bar that he thought Sokka would like after Sokka complained about the club. He’d also provided a great distraction from his sister and Aang. 

_Ugh,_ he thought, the full force of his problems rearing its head once again. He didn't want to think about that at all.

Sokka’s phone buzzed in his jean pocket, interrupting his thoughts. After digging around his pockets, he pulled it out, reading the notification. 

**_Zuko:_ ** _Hey, I hope your night is going okay. Did you get home safe?_

Sokka’s heart warmed at the text. Zuko was a good distraction from Katara. He started typing a response, 

**Sokka:** Hey! Its going ok, I didnt end up going home tho, I wandered a bit ~~and some guy~~

After re-reading the text, he backspaced, frowning slightly. Zuko had seemed pretty hurt that Sokka told him he didn’t want to hang out, so he’d be even more upset if Sokka basically said, 

_‘Hey Zuko, no I don’t want to hang out with you after work, but I met up with a random stranger, and now we’re out for drinks’._

He typed out a different response.

**Sokka:** Thanks man :D I didnt want to go home right away, so I wandered around for a bit. ~~now im just at a bar~~

_No_ , he thought, deleting the last few words of his text, _that definitely doesn’t sound great either_. Zuko probably didn’t want to hear, ‘ _No Zuko, I didn’t go home after declining your offer to hang out. I actually just went to a bar because I like to drink my problems away instead of spending time with my friends’._

He settled on just letting Zuko know he’d ended up wandering around, not feeling up to seeing his family. There was no reason to overshare. 

**_Zuko:_ ** _Oh, really? Well, if you’re feeling up to it, you can come by the shop and hangout. My boyfriend ended up cancelling on me._

**_Zuko:_ ** _Only if you want to, of course._

Okay, maybe there _was_ a reason to overshare. 

Sokka cursed himself. He was already hanging out with Jet, and couldn’t really mention that _now_ because it would just seem like he was making excuses to avoid hanging out with Zuko. He’d honestly much prefer the company of Zuko over Jet anyways, but the thought of his sister had put him in a slightly sour mood.

He’d be happy to see Zuko, but he didn’t want to bother him with his feelings. Bothering Jet was different because Sokka didn’t _know_ Jet, and also didn’t care if Jet got annoyed with him. He cared about Zuko’s opinion and didn’t want to scare him off by being depressed and moody. 

**Sokka:** Im still feeling a little blah rn, so maybe later if ur not asleep? 

**Sokka:** Also that sucks abt ur bf :(

That sounded good to Sokka. It wasn’t a half-bad plan, rant and get all his yuckiness out with Jet, then go see Zuko with clear spirits. His phone buzzed in his hand, signalling Zuko’s response.

**_Zuko:_ ** _It’s cool, I figured he would._

**_Zuko:_ ** _Also, I never sleep, so text me whenever you want._

**_Zuko:_ ** _I mean, I do sleep, but I just mean I’ll be available whenever._

**_Zuko:_ ** _Just text me whenever._

Sokka chuckled at Zuko’s response. He was always so shy in person, Sokka didn’t realise it would carry over to his texts as well. He sent a quick reply, assuring Zuko that he’d text him later, putting his phone away as Jet approached the table. 

“Texting your boyfriend?” He asked with a smirk. He slid into the seat across from Sokka, setting down a couple of shots. 

Sokka rolled his eyes, ignoring the comment, and glanced over the drinks Jet had brought over, “Hey,” He started, narrowing his eyes at the shots. “I thought I said nothing too strong?” 

“You’re telling me you can’t handle a single shot of vodka?” Jet asked with a scoff, and Sokka gestured to the _four_ shots on the table. 

“I can clearly count two for each of us.” 

“Well,” Jet said, sliding one shot across the table. “Maybe I grabbed three for myself because I happened to want that much. And maybe I also knew you couldn’t handle your alcohol.” Jet winked, grabbing one of his own shot glasses and raising it to Sokka.

Jet quirked his eyebrow, and Sokka felt himself rising to the challenge, grabbing the shot glass Jet had given him and raising it as well. They downed them together, and Sokka nearly choked at the taste. He forced it down, trying his best to avoid making a face, and cleared his throat in an attempt to be nonchalant. 

He apparently wasn’t very successful, because Jet just laughed and shook his head, 

“Such a baby,” He said, downing a second shot without even flinching. After wiping the back of his mouth with his sleeve, he gestured to the final shot, raising his eyebrows. “You up to redeem yourself?” 

Sokka didn’t like that Jet knew how to push his buttons.

* * *

A part of Sokka wished that he’d had a little more self-control when it came to Jet’s goading. 

He was still sitting at the booth, about eight shots later, nursing his elbow after losing an arm wrestle with the bartender, who Jet had so kindly bragged to on Sokka’s behalf. 

According to the bartender, Jet told him that Sokka was confidently bragging about how he could win an arm wrestle in exchange for a free round of shots. Sokka had, of course, been thoroughly confused, until Jet had poked and prodded him, talking about how ‘sure’ Sokka seemed before. Then he’d winked, and the glint in his eye told Sokka he could either back out or play along, and Sokka had stepped up to the plate, accepting the challenge.

He hadn’t even put up a good fight. He’d lost hard and fast, then in the act of humiliation insisted on best two-out-of-three, four-out-of-seven, and so on. The bartender had finally decided to spare Sokka, who clearly wasn’t giving up, and pardoned the loss. They didn’t get their free round of shots, but the bartender also didn’t make them pay for a round for the entire bar, an idea Jet had come up with after the first three losses. 

“Hey,” said Jet, pulling Sokka out of his sulking. “You want to get out of here? I know some pretty cool places to explore. Abandoned factories and shit.” 

Sokka was surprised that Jet still seemed so sober. He’d been drinking twice as much as Sokka with no breaks, whereas Sokka had to take a breather after every third shot to keep his world from spinning right out from under him. 

“Uh,” Sokka replied, pulling his phone out to check the time. “I don’t know, man; it’s pretty late.” 

“It’s not _that_ late,” Jet replied. “Why, you getting tired, old man?” He quirked an eyebrow at Sokka, who rolled his eyes. 

More of the goading, “Tired of drinking, sure.” 

“Then let’s get out of here,” Jet said, standing up from his chair. “Come on; I’ve already paid.” 

Sokka frowned but stood up anyway, patting his pockets to ensure he had everything. Jet took his hand gently, leading him out of the bar and back into the chilly night. 

“Spirits it’s cold,” Jet commented once they were outside. Sokka nodded, about to remove his hand from Jet’s, when he was suddenly yanked closer to the other man. Sokka stumbled at the movement, suddenly very close to Jet, and realised that Jet had put both of their hands into his coat pocket. 

“Uh,” He started, glancing down. The pocket was roomy, and it was certainly warmer than his own with the heat from Jet’s hand added in, but... he wasn't actually sure what the problem was; it had just caught him off guard. 

Jet squeezed lightly, “Is this okay?” He asked, looking down at Sokka. 

“Uh, yeah, it's cool,” Sokka replied lamely. “It's warm.” He met Jet's gaze, looking away quickly once he realised how close they were now. 

Jet smiled warmly, “Alright, cool. You ready to go?” He asked, and Sokka nodded. 

“So,” Jet started as they began to walk. “I know this one place, it’s like a weird treehouse in the middle of the woods, lots of pulley systems and handmade weapons. I’ve never seen anyone there, so it should be fine. Or we could go to this abandoned factory; it’s over by the river just outside of town. I’ve heard a painted lady haunts it.” Jet continued to ramble about the various places he knew around town, but Sokka wasn’t listening. 

A few seconds ago, the hairs on the back of his neck had stood up, and Sokka had felt a cold sweat coming on. He was currently trying to chalk it up to just being drunk, but a familiar presence had made itself known, getting harder and harder to ignore. It felt like there was someone right behind him, getting closer with every step, reaching out to him as he walked. 

_It can’t be her;_ He reminded himself. It literally couldn’t. Katara was alive, so this was just a figment of his imagination. The woman in black couldn’t hurt him anymore; she wasn’t real.

“-Sokka?” Jet’s voice cut into his thoughts, and Sokka blinked up at the other man who was smirking down at him. “You zoned out. How drunk are you?” He asked with a chuckle and knocked Sokka’s shoulder playfully.

Sokka frowned, “Uh, sorry,” He started, and glanced behind them, eyes darting around the empty sidewalk. “Just… got distracted, I guess.” The presence was gone. _She_ was gone. Sokka took a shaky breath to steady himself.

Jet seemed to notice Sokka’s mild distress and squeezed his hand from within the pocket, “Hey, you alright? If you want, I can just walk you home. You look like you’re going to throw up.” 

“No, I’m fine,” Sokka reassured, looking back up at Jet with a small smile. “Let’s just keep going.” 

“Well, that’s what I was asking you before you zoned out on me,” Jet said with a chuckle. “Where do you want to go?” 

Sokka sighed. He didn’t feel up for any urban exploring at the moment. Truthfully, he was a little spooked and didn’t feel up for anything. He wanted to go home, where the woman in black never appeared except for in his dreams.

“Actually, I might just go home,” Sokka said finally. He wasn't going to throw up or anything, but he had felt a little nauseous after that one. The idea of that... _spirit_ , or whatever it was, sticking around was making him nervous. He'd accepted the loss, _and_ he had Katara back. There was no reason for the woman in black to stick around. 

Unless... she was real. 

Jet slowed to a stop, stopping Sokka with him, “Sokka, you can tell me what’s up,” He said quietly, nudging Sokka's arm with his own. “Is this about your sister?” 

Sokka sucked in a breath at the mention of his sister. He’d technically been thinking of the woman in black, which was Katara in a way, but he hadn’t really been thinking of _what happened_ with his sister earlier. He’d been doing a pretty fine job of keeping his thoughts away from that subject, thanks to the alcohol, but at Jet’s reminder, he felt it all rush back full force. 

“Hey,” Jet started once more, interrupting Sokka’s thoughts for the second time. He looked up to see a sincere expression taking over Jet's features. “I know how it feels to have family problems, and I can tell you now that running away and avoiding them isn’t the way to do it. You have to talk about these things, bottling them up won’t do you any good.” 

Jet had a surprisingly good point, and it was one Sokka couldn’t really argue with. Sokka wasn’t sure how he could vent about this though. Earlier with Zuko, he was sober enough to blur the details, but now that he was intoxicated he couldn’t trust his tongue to keep any crucial information contained. 

Sokka sighed, “You’re right,” He admitted. “I just don’t even know where to begin. I don’t know if it’s best to talk about it while I’m buzzed either. ” 

Jet laughed lightly, “You make a good point. Here,” Jet started, tugging Sokka off in one direction. “Follow me. Let's go someplace warm.” 

Sokka allowed himself to be led through some alleyways and side streets, arriving at a small apartment building in a part of town Sokka didn't recognize.

“Is this your apartment?” asked Sokka. 

“Yeah,” Jet replied, finally removing their hands from his pocket. He grabbed a key from somewhere else inside his coat, unlocking the door to the lobby. “I’m not trying to get in your pants, I swear.” He said with a chuckle, "Well, maybe I am, but not right now. I just thought you'd appreciate some hospitality."

This was definitely out of character for Jet. He’d totally pegged Jet to be some asshole who sleeps around, getting guys and whoever else drunk so that he could get a quick fuck.

Jet’s actions so far though, had sort of proved him wrong. The concerns about Sokka’s wellbeing regarding his family, the hand-holding, the hospitality; it all made Sokka feel… kind of special, actually. He still didn’t know what to make of Jet though. One minute he was some cocky-but-affectionate-douche, the next moment he was a genuinely caring guy, making sure Sokka felt comfortable and heard. 

Jet led the two of them down some stairs into the basement level of the apartment building. They walked down the hallway, stopping at the last door where Jet produced another key, unlocking his door and leading them inside. 

The first thing Sokka noticed was how dark it was. Once Jet turned on the lights, Sokka realised that was because Jet had blackout curtains over every visible window. He kept his gaze roaming around the room, noticing how oddly chaotic it was.

The apartment itself clean, but there was a lot of clutter spaced around neatly. In one corner of the room, there were some dirty bongs and a couple of ashtrays, and in the other a pile of laundry. Weird paintings were pinned up on the walls, and it reeked of weed, but it honestly wasn't as messy as Sokka was expecting. 

“You can sit on the couch, I’m just gonna use the washroom,” said Jet as he disappeared down a hallway. Sokka walked further into the apartment where the couch in question sat in the middle of the living room. He stepped around the coffee table, dropping himself down onto the leathery furniture.

“Ow, fuck!” He exclaimed as soon as he sat down. He’d been expecting to sink into the furniture, but the couch was harder than he expected, and he’d hit it hard. Rubbing his tailbone, he adjusted himself to be as comfortable as he could, unable to find a spot that didn't feel like he was sitting on rocks. 

A moment later Jet returned from the washroom. He walked over to the bong corner and settled himself down on a bean-bag Sokka hadn’t noticed before. 

After looking at Sokka and gesturing to the paraphernalia, he asked, “Do you smoke? I know I already asked you that once tonight, but this time I mean pot."

“Uh, no,” Sokka replied, watching the man pick apart some green buds and begin to grind them. “Thanks, though.” 

“All good, offer always stands,” Jet said simply, taking out some papers and working on rolling a joint. “So, whaddya think? Of the apartment, I mean." 

Sokka glanced around the room, “It’s nice. I like your curtains. Though, I usually see them in bedrooms.” 

Jet chuckled, “Yeah. I need them in most rooms.” 

“Really?” Sokka asked, watching Jet’s fingers work the papers. “What for?” 

Jet shrugged, licking the paper and sealing the joint, “Eh, just need them," He produced a lighter from his jeans and lit one end, taking a drag and blowing out the smoke. "Anyway, tell me what’s on your mind.” 

Sokka could tell the alcohol was wearing off as he was starting to overthink things, no longer fueled by liquid confidence. Where did he even begin with this? How much was he willing to give away? Realistically, he barely knew Jet, so he could just tell him everything and never have to worry about it again. He could never see Jet again, and his life would go on. It’s not like Sokka _told_ anyone he was hanging out with Jet, so if Jet somehow wanted to ‘expose’ him for being crazy, it was likely no one would believe him.

Jet seemed to notice Sokka’s trouble, “Here, how about I ask you questions? You can let me know if I’ve hit a nerve and you don’t want to respond, or you can answer.” 

“Uh, we can try that. Sure." Sokka replied.

Jet nodded, leaning back into the beanbag, “Cool,” He started. He took another drag and then pointed at Sokka, “So I’ll let you know what I heard in the park. I know it’s about your sister, and that she’s lying to you. So, first question: what did she lie to you about?” 

Sokka frowned and bit his lip. The whole problem was what Katara lied about, but he didn’t know _how_ to explain all of that in one short answer. 

Jet once again seemed to notice his distress, and held out the joint to him, “Here, have a tiny hit. It’ll relax you a little bit, make it easier just to vibe.” 

Sokka eyed the joint, ready to decline the offer, before sighing deeply. It was probably a good idea to take a small hit; he’d be more relaxed, and if anyone questioned him, he could just say he was high and making shit up. He reached over and took it, taking a few short puffs before passing it back to Jet. 

“Wow,” Jet said, raising his eyebrows. “You barely even hesitated.” 

Sokka released the smoke from his lungs, coughing slightly, “You made a good argument," He choked out. The effects settled nicely into his brain, calming his nerves and loosening his limbs.

Jet smirked, setting the joint down into an ashtray, “Alright, did you want a new question?” 

“No, no,” Sokka said, waving a hand. “I’ll answer the first one. Just, uh, what was it again?” He asked, and felt a sheepish smile climb up his features. 

Jet grinned, “Man, after one hit?” He asked with a chuckle. “I asked what your sister was lying about. Why it made you so upset.” 

“Ah, right,” Sokka replied with a nod. He felt his mouth moving before his brain could process the words, blurting out, “She lied about her death.” 

There was a beat of silence before Jet scoffed, spitting out, “She lied about her _death_?” 

Sokka nodded solemnly at him, glancing at the other man to see disgust had taken over his features.

“Are you serious?” Jet asked, a bite of anger lacing his words. “That’s so fucked up. How- How long did she lie about it for?” 

“Two years,” Sokka replied, and Jet scoffed again. 

“That’s really fucked up," He scowled at the floor, before looking up at Sokka with a softer expression. "Are you okay? I can’t imagine how that must have felt,” He said, and Sokka sighed, leaning back into the couch, his limbs melting into the furniture. 

“Honestly, no. I mean, you found me talking to myself in a park, what do you think?” Sokka pointed out. 

Jet shook his head, “I just can’t even believe it. She faked her fucking death. Why did she do it?” 

Sokka sucked in a breath, looking at Jet seriously, “She uh... “ There really was no way to skirt around it. He just had to say it. “She got attacked by a vampire, and... subsequently became a vampire.” 

After a beat of silence, Sokka found himself rambling, trying to fill the awkward silence, “So yeah, she uh, faked her death. She technically did die, and now she's back to life, as a vampire. I uh, can go if you want. I know this sounds crazy and you probably think I’m nuts, I mean, I think I’m pretty nuts honestly, and-” 

“Sokka, slow down,” Jet interrupted. He stared at Sokka soberly, “I believe you.” 

Sokka felt relief flood his veins at the comment. He hadn't realised how stressed he'd actually felt about telling Jet. Sure, he had the backup plan, but it didn't help the anxiety before actually telling him.

“Spirits, I really had everything planned out in case you took that poorly,” Sokka admitted, letting out a breath. “You have no idea how glad I am. I didn't know how I was gonna manage, not being able to talk about it and all.”

“Well, it's a good thing you told me and not someone else." Jet said, and Sokka quirked an eyebrow. 

"Why's that?" He asked. 

Jet smirked, "I'm a vampire, too." 

A lot of different thoughts went through Sokka’s head after hearing that.

The first being Jet’s blackout curtains in every room made more sense now, but that wasn't his main concern. His main concern was he didn't have a lot of human friends after Jet's admission, Zuko being the only one. Even that was up for debate if Sokka really thought about it, which he didn't want to. 

Sokka pulled himself from his thoughts, finally saying, “I- really?” 

Jet nodded, “Really. I also have to be honest," Jet said, a sheepish smile climbing over his features. "I’ve been able to read your mind the whole time." 

Sokka slapped a hand to his forehead, “I knew it!” He exclaimed. Jet raised an eyebrow, and Sokka shook his head, “Sorry, I didn’t _really_ know, but I knew _something_ was up,” He admitted. “You should be a little less obvious with that one.” 

Jet shrugged, “Eh, it’s more fun to watch people squirm.” 

“So, wait,” Sokka asked, the dots slowly connecting for him. “I wasn’t talking out loud in the park, was I?” 

Jet blushed, rubbing the back of his neck, sheepishly muttering out, “No, uh, I was reading your thoughts then.” 

“Why’d you make me talk about this if you knew already!” 

Jet held up his hands, “I actually didn’t hear all of it, I only heard what I told you I heard. Also, you think _really_ loudly. Maybe it’s just because you were mad, but I could hear you from really far away.” 

“Still, not cool,” Sokka muttered, folding his arms over his chest. He loosened up, swallowing thickly and saying, “I am, uh, glad, I guess, that you’re a vampire. It means you actually get what I’m talking about.” 

“Well, don’t get me wrong, Sokka,” Jet started. “I don’t understand why the fuck your sister did what she did. But I definitely believe you about all the vampire stuff.” 

“Yeah, I know. I don’t get it either, my sister I mean,” Sokka replied, raking a hand through his hair. “You know her boyfriend knew he was being hunted by the vampire that attacked them?” 

Jet frowned at Sokka, “Why didn’t he tell you guys?” 

“He did,” Sokka replied with a scoff. “At least, he told _Katara._ That’s my sister by the way. Anyways, he told _her_ everything, but neither of them decided to tell _me_. I’m her older brother, the plan guy. I could have helped them.” He felt like a broken record as his words echoed around his brain, but his concerns hadn’t changed since his conversation with Aang and Katara. He _knew_ he could have helped them. 

“They don’t sound like they were thinking very far ahead. Even if you are just a human, you could have done _something_ ,” Jet commented, and Sokka nodded enthusiastically, his head feeling like it was on a string. 

“Yes! You get it!” He exclaimed grateful Jet wasn’t trying to diminish his concerns. “They didn’t seem to understand that when I told them.” 

“Well, they seem like assholes. They seem fucking manipulative as well,” Jet said bitterly. “I’m sorry that you had to go through that.” 

Sokka sighed, “Honestly, I went to therapy and got a lot of my shit sorted out. But that’s the thing; I got all of this sorted out only to be told it was for _nothing_. How am I supposed to talk to a therapist about any of this?” 

“Exactly! I’d feel fucking cheated if something like that happened to me, especially in your position,” said Jet.

Sokka nodded again, grateful Jet understood him perfectly, “That’s _exactly_ how I fucking feel. I can’t even tell my Dad that she’s alive either. I used to think I had it the worst out of the two of us because I found her body, but uh, we lost our mom a long time ago. I think it really fucked him up that he lost her _and_ Katara.” 

Jet sighed, “Sokka, I’m really sorry to hear about all of that. I can’t believe your sister would do that to you and your dad. I don’t have any blood siblings, but I can’t imagine my family doing anything like that to me.” 

Sokka shrugged, “I can’t believe it either, but I’m happy I was able to talk to someone about it. I haven’t really been able to get it off my mind. The alcohol helped earlier, I guess.” 

“Hey, you can always talk to me about this kind of thing, Sokka,” Jet said sincerely. “And hey, alcohol can definitely help, but you have to avoid going overboard. If you want, I can be your drinking buddy, and I’ll make sure you stay on track.” 

The offer made Sokka feel a little better about drinking tonight, and he nodded, “I’d appreciate that.” 

“‘Course. Also, alcohol doesn’t have to be your go-to every time. How are you feeling after that hit?” Jet asked and smirked. “Your eyes are pretty red, even after the small amount you did.” 

Sokka rolled his eyes, “I’m feeling fine, just a little relaxed. It definitely helped with my anxiety over this.” 

“Good, I’m glad it helped,” Jet said. “You’re always welcome to hit me up whenever you want. In fact,” He said, grabbing a sharpie off the coffee table. He moved from the bean bag to sit beside Sokka on the couch. 

“Here,” He said, pulling the cap off the marker. “Give me your hand, I’ll write my number down. You can text me whenever you need me, and I’ll be there in a heartbeat.” 

Sokka chuckled, passing his hand over, “You know I have my phone on me, right? And you were the one calling _me_ old-fashioned earlier.” 

Jet just laughed and continued to scribble on the back of Sokka’s hand, “Alright, you’ve got me there,” He said, putting the cap back on and tossing the sharpie back onto the coffee table. “I like _some_ old-fashioned things.” He added with a wink.

Jet’s smirk faded, and an odd expression took over his features, his eyes flicking down to Sokka’s lips briefly. Sokka realised just how close Jet was and felt a warm flush creeping up his cheeks. He cleared his throat and turned his head away, looking down at his hand. 

“Wow, your handwriting is shit,” He commented, rubbing his thumb over the chicken scratched numbers. “I should probably text you while I’m here, just to make sure I get these numbers right.” He could feel Jet’s gaze burning into him, and he tried to will his blush away. 

“Yeah, sure,” Jet replied absently, leaning back slightly. “So, tell me more about your shitty sister and her boyfriend.” 

* * *

Sokka spent an hour or two with Jet, ranting about Katara and Aang and talking through his problems. Jet supported mostly everything Sokka talked about, providing a pretty helpful outlet while also offering some good advice. It wasn't until Jet suggested Sokka spend the night did he realise how late it was getting. 

"Oh shit, I should actually probably go," Sokka said as he looked at the time. It was nearing 2:30, far later than he expected to stay. 

"Are you sure?" Jet asked. "Not trying to pressure you or anything, I just know it's late, and you did mention living in the suburbs, which is quite a walk away." 

"No, it's cool. I don't mind walking, thanks though." Sokka replied. 

Jet frowned, playing with Sokka’s wolf tail briefly before saying, “Alright, as long as you’re sure.”

At some point, Jet had moved closer and slung his arm around Sokka's shoulders, spending the majority of the conversation talking directly into his ear. A few times, his lips had brushed Sokka's ear, sending shivers up his spine. He knew Jet was doing it on purpose, but Sokka never complained. He didn't necessarily _dislike_ it after all. 

Jet had removed his arm though, letting Sokka stand up from the couch and collect his things.

“I’ll walk you out at least,” Jet insisted, standing up with him and leading Sokka out of the apartment.

Sokka followed him all the way to the front door of the building, stepping outside onto the sidewalk. He turned to say goodbye to Jet, who was leaning in the doorframe.

“Hey,” Jet started. “I hope you had a good time. All that shit with your sister, that’s fucked up, but I hope you know if you need to vent or just escape from all that bullshit, I’m here.” 

Sokka smiled, shoving his hands into his pockets, the high making the chill feel colder than it was, “Thanks, Jet. Have a good night."

Jet gave a two-fingered salute, turning to head back inside, “Have a good night, Sokka. And text me later, I'd like to see you again soon.” He winked before turning around, and Sokka fought himself to keep the blush from rising to his cheeks. 

Once Jet was inside, Sokka pulled out his phone and opened his maps app. He really wasn’t sure where he was in town and plotted a course for The Jasmine Dragon. After dismissing the notification that his destination was closed, he started down the sidewalk, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

It wasn’t until Sokka was about halfway there did he realise he should probably text Zuko and let him know he was on the way. He fumbled around with his pockets, his fingers numb from the cold and pot combined, navigating to the conversation with Zuko. 

**Sokka:** Hey, u still up? 

**Sokka:** Im p close to the tea shop, lemme know if ur awake 

Sokka was just about to put his phone back into his pocket when it buzzed, signalling Zuko was indeed awake. 

**_Zuko:_ ** _Hey, I’m sorry, but I have to go see my boyfriend, he’s apparently free now. I needed to grab some stuff from him earlier; it’s kind of important._

**_Zuko:_ ** _I’m sorry._

Sokka frowned at the screen, typing out a quick ‘ _no worries_ ’ before shoving his phone back into his pocket. He kind of saw this coming; he’d spent a long time hanging out with Jet, Zuko was bound to either be asleep or busy by the time Sokka was ready. 

With a sigh, he changed his destination in his maps, heading off towards his house instead.

* * *

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmmmm what a coincidence 
> 
> also WHO is ready for some Sokka corruption??? I am >:)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY so update schedule whom? lmao I'm so sorry, I know I promised a chapter like every 3 days (what was I thinking) but that was when I had free time lol. Turns out having a job really takes up a lot of that......... anyway,,, please enjoy! 
> 
> trigger warnings: 
> 
> just some blood mention and super vague alcoholism mentions

* * *

Sokka woke up with a hangover, as per his expectations.

He’d woken up later than usual, tearing himself from a dream where he was trapped in the club from last night; the pounding music overwhelming him and making him sick. He very quickly realised those were real symptoms he was experiencing, and after waking up for real, Sokka accepted that he’d have to deal with his hangover for the better part of the morning. Maybe longer, considering Drunk-Sokka hadn’t even bothered to get himself a glass of water last night. _Dick._

Morning-Sokka couldn’t really remember much of his walk home. He hadn’t felt that drunk leaving Jet’s apartment, but everything after Zuko cancelling him was a bit of a blur. He definitely remembered getting home, but he couldn’t remember getting into bed and falling asleep; which was fine. He just really hoped he hadn’t woken anyone up. 

With delicate movements, Sokka disentangled himself from his blankets and sat up, rubbing his face with his hands. He hadn’t been this hungover in a long time. The light from the window was far too bright, and his room was far too warm. Perhaps that was because he’d fallen asleep in his winter jacket and jeans, something he realised as he sat up. With a groan, he shucked off the coat, airing out his pits as he changed into fresh clothing. He’d overdone it last night for sure, no thanks to Jet, and mentally vowed never to drink again. 

Well, he couldn’t really stick to that kind of vow. He really enjoyed his time with Jet, even with the other man’s incessant goading, and would likely get into similar situations to last night. Memories from the night before in the bar flooded his brain, and he smiled faintly as he recalled losing to the bartender in that stupid arm wrestle. It had been a while since he’d had that much fun. So maybe he’d just vow never to drink _that much_ again. That was a reasonable promise.

After changing into some fresh clothes, Sokka traipsed out of his bedroom and down the stairs, towards the kitchen. His mission so far was to deal with his headache and then have a shower; all while avoiding Hakoda and Gran-Gran. Reason being, he'd totally forgotten to text Hakoda about staying out late last night, and no doubt would experience a talking-to of some calibre today. He could handle that, but he’d prefer to deal with it later when he was a little less hungover. 

Unfortunately, the universe had other plans for Sokka because as soon as he entered the kitchen, Hakoda looked up at him, hands clasped over a mug of hot coffee, 

“Good morning, Sokka,” He chirped a little too loudly, and a bright smile graced his features. “Nice to see you alive and well this fine morning.” 

Something in his tone of voice indicated to Sokka that Hakoda was _not_ as happy as he seemed. The man was sitting casually, but with a certain rigidness to him that set off Sokka’s fight or flight. 

Hakoda was in Dad-Mode.

“Uh, hey Dad,” Sokka replied warily, taking the seat across from him. There was already a glass of water and two headache tablets sitting in front of him, which just made Sokka realise he didn’t get home as quietly as he’d hoped.

Hakoda smiled at him, “Want to tell me about your night?” Sokka absolutely did not. 

He swallowed, sinking into his chair a little, innocently starting with, “Uh, well... You know that Aang and I-” 

“Aang came back shortly after you both left,” Hakoda interrupted, setting his mug down. “He told me that you’d had a bit of a disagreement, something he blamed on himself, and then you ran off. He came by the house to see if you had come back, which you hadn’t.” 

Sokka sighed, giving up his attempt to act like nothing happened, “Dad, I’m-”

“ _Sokka_ ,” Hakoda interrupted again, holding up a hand. “I _asked_ you to text me if you were going to be out later. Your Gran-Gran and I don’t ask for much.”

The disappointment on Hakoda’s face was enough to make Sokka’s cheeks burn with shame, “I’m sorry, Dad. I just got- I don’t know, overwhelmed by the uh, _disagreement_ Aang and I had.” 

“So you decided to go out and get _blind drunk_? Then you come back at 3 o'clock in the morning smelling like- like _marijuana_ ?” Hakoda said exasperatedly. He sighed, leaning his elbows on the table. “Sokka, you know that these things don’t _really_ bother me, and under any other circumstances I wouldn’t mention it, but I’m just a little confused. And if I'm honest, I'm worried. This isn’t like you.

“You and I both know you’re a capable young man, and I understand more than anyone that you’re struggling right now,” Hakoda continued. “I know that- that Katara’s accident was hard on us all. I get it. But this isn’t acceptable. You _have_ to know that, Sokka.” 

“I _know,_ Dad,” Sokka replied. “I’m handling all of that fine,” _Lie._ “Last night had nothing to do with Aang or Katara. I was just… meeting up with a friend I hadn’t seen in a while.” _Double Lie._

Hakoda didn’t seem to believe him, “Sokka,” He started, rubbing his temple with one hand. “I’m _just_ worried about you; you know that, right?” 

Sokka bit his lip, “I know, Dad...”

He removed his hands, gesturing to Sokka as he said, “I know it’s hard, and I’m _so_ proud of you for going to therapy and taking these steps for growth. But I don’t want to see you go down a path that I _know_ will do more harm than good. I’ve been there, Sokka.” Hakoda admitted.

“Dad, I-” 

“Just- promise me that you won’t go down that path because of Katara,” Hakoda said firmly. There was a beat before he quietly added on, “I won't lose both my kids." 

Sokka almost instinctively rolled his eyes because really, Sokka was a smart, 23-year-old guy; he wouldn't let anything like _that_ happen just from drinking. He didn’t doubt that it _could_ happen, but he was pretty sure it wouldn’t happen to him.

But it was the tone of voice Hakoda had used, the look in his eye; it made Sokka stop himself. It reminded Sokka that Hakoda was hurting too. Hakoda had to deal with losing his wife _and_ his daughter. Sokka couldn’t brush off his concern.

"I promise, Dad," Sokka replied quietly. "I'm sorry." 

Hakoda visibly relaxed, "It's alright, Son. I hope you don't think I'm just chastising you for nothing. Having fun with your friends is fine, but," A shadow crossed his features. "You came back last night like a man who wanted to forget. I don't want to see that again." 

Sokka nodded solemnly, the weight of Hakoda’s warning sitting heavily on his mind. It’s not like Sokka had intended for last night to go that way, and he’d already told himself he wouldn’t do it again, but Hakoda’s words still put the situation into perspective for him.

“I also wanted to ask you about Aang,” Hakoda said after a moment. “Aang is a pretty upbeat kid, but he seemed incredibly upset last night. What happened between you two?” 

The mention of Aang again made Sokka frown, the reminder of the conversation they’d had last night bitter and painful. He couldn’t tell Hakoda _anything_ about that.

Hakoda seemed to notice Sokka’s discomfort, and cleared his throat, saying, “It’s alright if you don’t want to talk about it.” 

Sokka pursed his lips, “I really don’t. I’m sorry.” He said quietly.

“Don’t be,” Hakoda reassured. “Just know I’m here if you want to talk.” 

Sokka appreciated the sentiment but knew he’d never take him up on it. He was thankful for Jet at this moment; Sokka had a lot of frustration regarding Aang and his sister, and now he felt even more bothered because it was affecting his dad. 

“Anyways,” Hakoda said, interrupting his thoughts once more. “I just wanted to say that. Next time anything like this happens, or even if you’re going to be out late, just text me. You know I’ll understand.” 

“I know, dad,” Sokka replied, nodding at him. “Thank you.” 

Hakoda smiled warmly at him and stood up from the table, gesturing to the Advil as he headed out of the kitchen, “I assumed you’d need that after last night.” 

Sokka chuckled weakly as Hakoda passed, “You have no idea.”

* * *

After wasting the majority of the day away in bed, Sokka eventually found himself walking in the cold on his way to Jet’s apartment. 

He’d obviously taken Hakoda’s warning to heart, but Sokka knew how to take care of himself, and he’d had a lot of fun with Jet last night. Besides, Jet hadn’t even mentioned going out for drinks tonight. When he’d texted Sokka, he just said to meet him at his apartment to hang out and talk, maybe play some video games. Sokka was well aware that they _could_ end up going out at some point, seeing as how it was pretty early in the evening, but he’d cross that bridge when he got to it. 

The wind chilled him as he carried on, and he mentally cursed the bus company for not running on Sunday evenings. _One of the many perks of living in a small town,_ he thought as he zipped up the rest of his coat. Had he been making any money, Sokka would have just called a cab or something, considering Jet lived over _thirty minutes away._ On foot, this was a nightmare. He’d already been walking ten, so it wasn’t like he wanted to turn around; he’d committed himself to the walk already. He just wished he’d brought some headphones or some _gloves_. 

As cold as it was, it wasn’t surprising to Sokka that every street he walked down was empty. It was late enough on a Sunday that most people would be home, he figured. Sokka himself usually stayed home on Sundays, and at this point in his journey realised he would have much preferred staying home. 

When sparse snowflakes started to fall in front of him, Sokka shoved his hands deeper into his fur-lined pockets, regretting his outfit choice already. He hadn’t been expecting snow, even if it was just some flurries that melted as soon as they touched the pavement. He’d only worn his sneakers and jeans, and while he _was_ wearing his winter coat, he’d only worn it over a thin t-shirt. The weather change made the walk a little creepy; the quiet and the premature darkness of autumn evening added with the sudden snowfall made it feel a bit ghostly. A chill went through his body, and he picked up the pace.

Glancing around, Sokka recognised the street he was on very quickly. He had so many memories here; he’d creatively nicknamed it Memory Lane. Toph and Suki once took him to the girls boxing club to his left, where he’d had his ass handed to him. They’d taken him for ice cream afterwards, a mom-and-pop place just a few stores down, where he’d then been challenged to eat an entire banana split in under five minutes. Sokka smiled fondly as he passed the particular ice cream shop, remembering the killer brain freeze he’d had afterwards. 

To his right, on the other side of the street was the dance studio Suki used to teach. Sokka had sat in on a few lessons before they were dating, even if he knew he would never be good at it. More than anything, Sokka just wanted to spend time with her and make her laugh, which she did a lot of considering Sokka had two left feet and couldn’t dance for the life of him. Even though they’d broken up years later, her dance studio was a happy memory. 

Further down the street was the art studio he used to visit all the time. It was closed now, the owner had realised this small town was just a little _too_ small, and hardly anyone except for Sokka had shown up. Passing the empty building, he felt a tug in his chest at the memory of taking Katara there. He’d wanted to do some portrait study there, where the lighting was better and had access to better materials. The memory, of course, didn’t last long in his mind. That was the last time he’d ever brought her to the studio, and had been only weeks before her accident. Sokka picked up the pace again. 

He finally rounded a corner and buried his nose into the collar of his jacket. The temperature seemed to drop drastically all of a sudden, the snow no longer melting right away on the pavement. Sokka didn’t usually hate the cold. In fact, he enjoyed it for the most part, but the wind had picked up and was biting at his skin, getting under his jacket. Chilly air was one thing, but chilly air being thrown at you was too much. 

Another chill passed through him, and he hugged his jacket as close to him as he could. It had gotten very cold very quickly, and Sokka frowned a little as he watched his breath twirl out in front of him. Maybe he’d read the weather wrong, or was reading it for the wrong date. He was _sure_ it said that it would be a clear night. He hunched up his shoulders, furrowing his brow as he continued down the street.

The flurries floating around him had increased in quantity at some point, and Sokka could officially say it was snowing now, fat flakes floating around him menacingly. It had started to pile up against the buildings to his right, creating tiny snowdrifts that his shoes sometimes kicked through. This was getting a little concerning, and Sokka could feel his body starting to shiver uncontrollably as he walked down the impossibly long sidewalk. He wasn’t even sure he was going the right way at this point, and his fingers were too cold to be removed from his pockets. 

Sokka picked up his pace, trying to get some blood flowing to his extremities. This was a very sudden turn of events that was becoming concerning to him. He wasn’t just underdressed; Sokka felt like he was somewhat in danger with the clothes he had on. He had a vague idea of where he was supposed to go, but with the snow coming down harder and faster, he’d soon be unable to rely on physical landmarks and would have to pull out his phone. He didn’t really want to do that, because his fingers were already freezing cold inside of his pockets; pulling them out didn’t sound too inviting. 

As he continued with a light jog, he realised he was getting out of breath very quickly, and looked down to see the snow had gotten deeper, reaching up to his ankles. Sokka blinked, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he glanced around the sidewalk. _How did it get this bad?_ Sokka shook his head and continued. He knew he had to make a right soon, and he’d already been walking down the sidewalk for some time. He hoped he didn’t have much longer to go. 

The wind whipped around him suddenly, blowing snow into his face and causing him to stumble backwards. He shivered as some of the snow made its way into his jacket, ice-cold on his chest and neck, blinking blearily around him. It seemed that the final gust of wind had triggered some sort of blizzard, as Sokka could now only see up to three feet in front of him; the light from the streetlights causing a disorienting glow in the sudden whiteout. 

Sokka pushed himself to keep walking, not letting himself stop and freeze to death. His legs felt like ice cubes underneath his jeans, the snow settling into the denim uncomfortably. Sokka glanced down again to see the snow was just about up to his knees, and he huffed out a breath. _What is going on_? 

He shivered, forcing his legs to move forwards through the snow, at this point just wanting to make it somewhere protected from the wind, like a bus stop. He squinted, eyes fluttering as snowflakes danced in front of them, looking around for any sign of shelter. Sokka’s anxiety spiked as he realised he couldn’t see a fucking thing. He couldn’t make out anything around him, what if he wandered into the street? _Am I going to die out here?_

Sokka pulled his hands into his sleeves and crossed his arms over his chest, hugging himself desperately as he walked. He had half a mind just to pull his arms into his coat altogether; try to conserve some heat as he walked. He hunched up his shoulders and picked up the pace, trudging through the snow, trying to keep his eyes open as the wind whipped at him dangerously.

After what felt like forever, the snow now up to his thighs, Sokka could see the pale glow of a streetlight in the distance. He picked up his pace and noticed a figure standing beneath it, huddled beside the pole. _Thank the spirits_ , Sokka thought. At the very least, he and this person could try to share some heat in the middle of this snowstorm. 

“ _Hello!_ ” He called as he walked onwards, but his voice felt lost even to him. The wind was howling over top of him, drowning out his cries. Gritting his teeth, Sokka tried to walk a little faster through the ever-mounting snow, trying to reach whoever was out here before the snow buried them both. 

He called out again, officially deaf to his own words, and watched through squinted eyes as the figure suddenly collapsed, the snow already up to their chest. Sokka cursed quietly, realising that he was very likely going to be in the same boat, but continued towards them. 

He pushed on, snow up to his waist now, slowing to a stop as he finally reached whoever had gone limp in the snow. They were almost completely covered, the figures long dark hair and blue coat the only features he could see. Sokka realised it was a woman who had collapsed and began to dig her out, careful not to tangle his fingers in her hair. Sokka wasn’t even sure what he was going to do once he got her out of the snow. What if she was already dead? 

Sokka’s fingers, which had gone so purple they were almost black, finally scraped away the last bit of snow covering her legs, and he shifted her body, pulling her out of the snow mound. He shivered violently, hands shaking as he pushed her hair out of her face. Snowflakes whipping around him, Sokka had to squint to make out who it was he’d found out here.

He frowned, something was wrong. This person was injured, badly. From what he could make out, it looked like she’d smashed her face on the pole when she fell. He couldn’t make out her injuries and moved closer to her. 

Conveniently, the wind blew up and away, the blizzard clearing slightly, and Sokka felt his blood run even colder than it was now as he realised who he’d found.

He made a sound, either a cough or a sob he wasn’t sure, Sokka couldn’t hear it anyway, as he stared into the lifeless eyes of his sister. She was blue and bleeding, and so much worse than the first time. This was how he’d found her, hair matted and frozen, her mangled body lifeless in the snow. 

_This isn’t real_ , he thought desperately, tearing his eyes from her. He knew something had been wrong; the weather had gotten so bad so quickly. His eyes darted around the empty frozen wasteland, searching for any sign that the woman in black was here. She had to be behind this. Katara was alive; he saw her the other day. This was just another one of her tricks.

Sokka’s eyes landed back on Katara, and he huffed out a breath, releasing his grip and letting her fall back into the snow. He squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth as he waited for it to be over already. The woman in black always did this; she _always_ put him through the worst before disappearing. 

The wind howled angrily around him, the constant dropping temperature a reminder that this might not actually be the worst yet. Sokka opened his eyes again, blinking blearily as the snow was whipped into his face. He’d never been this cold in his entire life.

Katara’s body had disappeared from in front of him, leaving him alone in the cold. Sokka didn’t know why this was taking so long. What could possibly be next? Sokka felt a flare of anger rise within him, and he threw his arms up, silently daring the woman in black to do her worst. She’d already thrown Katara’s body at him, and even that was a reused tactic.

_You know what bitch,_ He thought daringly, _Katara’s alive! I don’t give a shit anymore about your stupid tricks!_ He glared defiantly around him, waiting for something, _anything_ to happen. 

The wind continued to howl, blowing him around violently. The blizzard raged on, the snow just about up to his waist, and he cursed through chattering teeth. He’d just have to wait it out. How long would this take? Would she only relent once he gave in and believed he was going to die?

Sokka stumbled slightly at a particularly violent gust of wind and realised the snow around him had suddenly disappeared, no longer locking him in place. He blinked and looked around, no longer shivering from the intense cold but still disoriented from the experience. He let out a few shaky breaths, patting himself to feel for any sign that it had been real. As expected, his jeans were dry, and his fingers were no longer frostbitten. 

So that was it. All Sokka had to do was tell her to fuck off, and she’d go? 

_It can’t be that easy,_ he thought, eyes darting around the street. It was eerily silent, and there was still no one around. 

As if in answer, Sokka took notice of another figure a few metres in front of him, standing quietly under a streetlight. Her floor-length coat ruffled softly to an invisible breeze, and she stared Sokka down from afar. Even from here, he knew who it was.

Sokka glared back at the woman in black, his heart beating wildly in his chest. The idea of her frightened Sokka to his core, but now he was just a little ticked off at her recent actions. 

“Is- Is that it?” He called, voice wavering. “Is that all you can do?” 

She remained silent and suddenly approached, reducing the distance between them to a few feet. This close, Sokka could see that this wasn’t the usual Katara imposter that haunted him. She had pale skin, and a sharp jawline framed by loose strands of hair escaping her tightly-pulled bun. Her crimson eyes burned into him as she glared, painted lips pulled into a sneer.

Sokka felt his fear subside slightly as a new realisation hit him suddenly. 

He recognised her. 

His eyebrows furrowed slightly as he looked her over, burning her features into his brain. He felt like he was experiencing Deja Vu, and couldn’t help but choke out, “Do I know you?” His voice foreign and far-away sounding. 

His question had surprised himself, but what surprised Sokka even more was the look that crossed the woman’s face. Her glare faltered; eyes widening ever so slightly at Sokka’s question.

She looked… afraid, in a way. It made Sokka’s heart clench in a way he didn’t recognise. 

The shift didn’t last long, however, and a second later, the woman was gone, leaving Sokka alone in the street. 

He let out a breath, glancing around the empty street before relaxing ever so slightly. The hair-raising presence she usually had was gone, and Sokka was confident it was actually over. Her visit had been violent, abrupt, and yet this time, Sokka didn’t feel quite so afraid of her. The usual lasting fear that followed her visits was absent, leaving him with a strange churning in his stomach that he could only describe as confusion. She'd left as quickly as she appeared, and all Sokka could think was,

_So that’s… really it._

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So just know I wrote the entire second half of this chapter to the hollow knight official soundtrack, and I WILL be using that while I write woman in black scenes from now on. Perfect vibes.


	11. Chapter 11

* * *

After some serious debate with himself, Sokka decided it was probably safer to continue to Jet’s apartment. He was closer to the other man than his own home anyways, and Sokka didn’t want to spend any more time outside than he had to. 

He’d only been minutes away anyways, and once he arrived, he was relieved to hear that Jet actually wanted to stay in tonight. 

“I figured you’d prefer to hang out here,” He’d said with his signature smirk. “I know my wallet will.” 

So now they were both sitting on Jet’s spirits-awful couch, Sokka sipping contentedly on a beer while Jet downed shot after shot. Jet had been asking Sokka lots of questions about his home life and younger years, steering clear of the Katara topic.

“So,” Jet started as he poured out a shot for himself. “You live with your dad, right? How did that go over last night?” 

Sokka shrugged, taking a sip of his own drink, “It was okay. He definitely chewed me out a little this morning. Apparently, I wasn’t as quiet as I could have been.” 

“That bites. Have you ever thought about moving out?” 

“I was living on campus at one point,” Sokka replied. “Then Katara died; I came back home and never went back to school. I hadn’t thought about moving out after that point because I was just so wrapped up in everything else.” 

Jet sighed, “Shit, dude. I bet it’s frustrating to know it was all for nothing,” After a beat, Jet quickly added on, “We don’t have to talk about your sister tonight though.”

Sokka shrugged, “It’s cool. Also, at this point, I’m kind of… numb to it, if that makes sense. So I wouldn’t say ‘frustrating’.” 

Jet glanced up at him, frowning, “What do you mean?” 

“Well,” Sokka started, setting his drink down on the coffee table. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just not as angry as I thought I was.” He shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong, it was pretty fucked up what they did, but… I can’t stay angry at them forever.” 

Sokka still didn’t quite forgive either of them, but he couldn’t bring himself to stoke that fire anymore. The woman in black had made herself more of a presence in his life, and he figured he’d cross the Katara-and-Aang bridge when he got to it. Right now, the majority of his attention was on whoever or whatever was haunting him.

Jet scoffed at Sokka’s statement, “Are you serious? Sokka, they fucking lied to you about the worst possible scenario,” He said coldly. “You just told me that you dropped out of school because of her accident, which turned out to be some big scam.”

Sokka frowned, “I mean when you put it like that," He admitted. "But it’s not like I  _ hate _ them or anything. I’ll get over it.” 

Jet scoffed again, “Sokka, it doesn’t matter if you hate them or not, but you can’t let them get away with something like that just because they’re family. They haven’t apologised, remember?” 

“Yeah I guess they didn’t,” Sokka agreed with a sigh. “And… I  _ guess  _ what you’re saying makes sense.” 

“It  _ does _ make sense because I’m right,” Jet pointed out. He poured himself another shot and downed it before adding, “Don’t let your toxic family members push you around; you deserve better than that. If you start trying to let shit like this slide, you’ll end up being a doormat for them.” 

Something in Jet’s logic sounded off to Sokka, but before he could challenge it, Jet continued, “Seriously, Sokka. You put your life on hold for  _ two years _ . What did they do to make up for that?” 

Sokka sighed, leaning back into the couch. That was something he couldn’t deny. He’d spiralled into depression from Katara’s accident; he’d been cheated out of time. It was enough to keep the embers of his anger warm, a harsh glow to remind him that his conflict with Katara was still present; despite his issues with the woman in black.

Jet seemed to sense his acceptance and touched Sokka’s elbow softly, “Hey, I know how it feels. You’ll find it easier to cut them off with time.” 

This pulled Sokka out of his thoughts abruptly, and he turned to Jet with a frown, “Cut them off?” He asked. That certainly wasn’t on Sokka’s To-Do list; he had no intentions of cutting them off; he was just kind of angry and needed to process everything before talking to either of them again.

“You sound confused,” Jet stated slowly, removing his hand from Sokka’s elbow. “Were you not planning on cutting them off?” 

“No,” Sokka replied, shaking his head. “She’s my little sister, and yeah this is easily the worst thing she’s ever done, but… I know she didn’t do it out of spite or anything. I wouldn’t cut her off for that.” 

“First off, don’t use her family status as an excuse,” Jet countered. “And Sokka, don’t get me wrong, family is important, but she hurt you. They both did. Would you really offer the same forgiveness to some strangers?” 

Sokka frowned again, “What kind of question is that?” 

“I’m just saying, Sokka,” said Jet, standing up from the couch. “Don’t let them walk all over you for this. What they did was seriously messed up, and you need to hold them accountable.” 

Before Sokka could respond, Jet made his way into another room, presumably to grab some more alcohol, leaving Sokka alone on the couch. Something about their conversation wasn’t sitting right with Sokka at all, particularly the points made about cutting Katara off. Sokka knew he wasn’t exactly pleased with Katara and Aang’s excuses, but it didn’t mean he wanted to go no-contact just like that. Katara was family! 

But then… Jet  _ had  _ asked if Sokka would let a stranger do the same. If Katara  _ wasn’t  _ his baby sister, would he be having these same doubts over what Jet was saying? Faking someone’s death was definitely on Sokka’s do-not-ever-do-this list, as if he really needed to put something like that on a list, and the excuses Aang and Katara provided weren’t exactly that good either. 

Jet returned at that moment, settling back down onto the couch with another drink in his hand.

“Anyway,” Jet said suddenly. “I’m gonna have to leave soon, which sucks because I feel like you just got here.” 

“Oh, that’s cool. I don’t mind heading home,” Sokka replied. He had some thinking to do regarding his stance on Katara and Aang. 

“Well, I do. I was enjoying myself,” Jet said with a smirk. “I called a cab for you, though; they should be here in about fifteen minutes.” 

Sokka shook his head, “Jet, you didn’t have to do that. I really don’t mind walking,” he said. 

“Nope, it’s freezing cold outside, and it's pitch black,” Jet replied. “And don’t worry about the drink either. I’ll finish it later.” 

Sokka sighed, handing his drink to Jet, “Well, thank you. I appreciate that much.” 

Jet nodded, taking the drink from Sokka and disappearing into the kitchen. Sokka stood up, grabbing his coat from where he’d hung it up and walking over to the front door to wait for Jet. 

“I’ll wait out front with you,” Jet said as he appeared again and unlocked his door, leading them out of the apartment. 

Sokka followed him down the hall and up to the front lobby, where they stopped beside the large glass windows. Peering out, Sokka could see that the taxi hadn’t arrived yet, and turned his attention back to Jet.

“Hey,” Jet said as soon Sokka met his gaze. “Can I be honest with you?” 

Sokka nodded, and Jet smirked before continuing, “You’re a pretty good-looking guy Sokka, and this is a crazy coincidence, but I’m actually into good-looking guys.” 

Sokka felt a little stunned by the statement, unsure of which part to respond to, offering a lame, “O-oh. Uh, thank you?” 

“A+ response there, bud,” Jet replied sarcastically and shot him a playful eyeroll. “I’m telling you I like you. And that I’m uh, seeing another guy.” 

“Oh,” Sokka replied. “So... what was the point of telling me that?”

Jet ran a hand through his hair nervously, a trait Sokka had never seen him do before, “Well, I’m actually trying to break things off with this other guy. He’s super clingy, and we’re not really that serious anyway, but I was wondering if after all that is sorted… you’d like to go on a real date sometime?” 

Sokka processed Jet’s question, his brain a bit sluggish from the alcohol. It’s not like Sokka was _really_ shocked or anything, Jet was pretty open about his flirtatious advances, but Sokka couldn’t deny that he wasn’t expecting it. He'd just assumed that Jet was flirty by default.

“You don't need to give me an answer right now. A maybe would be cool though,” Jet continued, and then chuckled lightly. “And I get it if you don’t actually like guys. I guess I never really asked.” 

“No. No, I like guys. I uh, like both actually,” Sokka replied, eyebrows furrowed. “To clarify though, you’re asking me out on a future date?” 

Jet smiled, “Yes.” 

“And this date totally relies on you breaking things off with this other guy?” Sokka asked, quirking one eyebrow.

Jet’s smile faltered slightly, “Uh, yes?” 

Sokka nodded, “Okay. Well. If I’m available, uh, sure? I'm not saying I have a ton of suitors or anything, but uh, yeah. Sure.” He wasn’t sure what else to say to that. 

Jet sighed lightly, “Well, don’t sound too excited," He sighed, continuing before Sokka could defend himself. " I get it’s a weird question. You’re just- you’re really nice to be around. You’re cool, and chill, and just- a regular guy.” 

Sokka scoffed, “Thanks.” 

Jet laughed and knocked their shoulders together, “You know what I mean! You aren’t all dramatic and edgy or whatever, like this guy I’m seeing.” 

Sokka frowned slightly, “That sounds… exciting.” 

Jet rolled his eyes, “That’s one way to put it, I guess. I won’t get too into it, but he seriously over-analyzes everything. Super paranoid guy.” 

Sokka frowned again, opening his mouth to add onto what Jet was saying when a car honked from outside. Glancing through the window, he saw a taxi pulled over to the side, waiting somewhat patiently for him. 

Sokka turned back to Jet, “Well, I hope it works out then, with that guy.” 

Jet winked, “I hope it doesn’t.” 

“Right,” Sokka corrected with a small smile. “Anyways, see you around."

“See you around, Sokka," Jet replied, and offered a small salute as Sokka ducked out of the building, rushing over to the taxi as quickly as he could to avoid the cold.

* * *

The drive between Sokka’s house and Jet’s apartment was significantly shorter than the walk, and he found himself home within minutes. Jet had prepaid with the company, something Sokka appreciated but felt guilty about nonetheless, so all Sokka had to do was step out and go inside. 

He didn’t go inside though, instead opting to go for a walk to clear his head. He was mainly trying to clear it from the light buzz he had going, not wanting to give Hakoda any ammunition for another lecture at some point, but he also had a lot on his mind after his conversation with Jet. 

For one thing, Jet asking him out was not something Sokka had been expecting. He also wasn't expecting Jet to have a partner, considering how forward he was with Sokka. Sokka also wasn’t even sure if he liked Jet in that way, let alone if he'd like him whenever Jet broke things off with his boyfriend/partner/person. 

Sokka sighed, putting those thoughts to the back of his mind. Out of everything, Jet being interested in him was the least of his problems. 

He whistled as he walked, taking in his surroundings. It wasn’t too late out, and the sky was clear, giving him a nice view of the moon above as he walked through the forest. It was also warmer than it was earlier, and while it wasn’t exactly T-shirt weather, Sokka didn’t feel like he’d get frostbite anytime soon. He figured that might be because the cold he felt earlier was a woman in black vision, but either way, it was warm enough now to go on a walk comfortably.

On the drive, Sokka had focused his thoughts on Katara and Aang, and came to a personal conclusion that he wouldn’t be cutting Katara off. He couldn’t do that to her.  A part of himself had reminded him that what she had done seemed pretty unforgivable, but he knew she didn't mean any harm. It was too out of character for her, and Sokka knew that once he had fully thought it through and sorted out his feelings of anger and sadness, he'd be able to forgive her.

After making it to the clearing, Sokka dropped down onto a bench, leaning his head back to gaze up at the night sky. From here, he could see three or four constellations; none of which he knew by name. They glittered above, clear as day without the light pollution from town. It was peaceful.

Of course, his peace came to an abrupt end as he heard light footsteps crunching over dead leaves. 

“Sokka?” 

As soon as the stranger spoke, Sokka realised it wasn’t a stranger. The universe seemed to enjoy not giving him a break, and with a sigh, Sokka lifted his head, his gaze landing on Aang.

Aang offered a small wave, and Sokka folded his arms, grumbling, “What do you want?” as he looked away.

“I was actually just out here on a walk,” Aang admitted quietly, stepping closer to him. “But then, I saw you here. I was just going to turn around, but I figured I’d see how you’re doing.” 

“Well, you’ve seen me,” Sokka replied curtly. “And clearly I’m doing fine.” Sokka could preach against Jet all he wanted, but at the end of the day, he was still pissed at both Aang and Katara. 

“Well, I wanted to ask how you’re  _ feeling _ , to be specific,” Aang clarified, slowly sitting down on the bench beside Sokka. “After last night.” 

Sokka groaned, tossing his head back, so his gaze was pointed at the stars again, “I  _ feel  _ angry. And pissed off. And frustrated."

“Those technically all mean the same thing,” Aang commented innocently. Sokka ignored the urge to facepalm. 

“What do you even want, Aang? It’s only been a day and a half, a little over 24 hours; can’t you just leave me alone?” Sokka asked exasperatedly. Aang wasn’t getting the hint. 

Aang sighed, “I know, I’m sorry. I just feel so terrible about what we did, and you seemed so mad-” 

“I  _ am  _ mad, Aang,” Sokka interrupted, turning to face the other man. “And I’d appreciate you  _ leaving me a _ _ lone _ .” 

Aang opened and closed his mouth a few times before letting out a sigh of defeat, slouching his shoulders slightly. Being cold towards Aang didn’t make Sokka feel great, but he couldn’t bear to have a conversation with him right now. He felt all twisted and angry at the man’s presence. He wanted to sort that out in private.

“I’ll go,” Aang said quietly. He stood up from the bench, offering Sokka a weak wave. “See you around.” 

Sokka watched him take a few steps away from him when a question popped into his mind. With a groan, he said, "Aang, wait."

Aang turned back, eyes hopeful as he asked, “Yeah, Sokka?” 

“I need to ask you something,” Sokka replied, and ran a hand through his hair. 

“Anything,” Aang replied, and quickly walked back over to sit down on the bench again. 

"So uh," Sokka started, unsure of how to word this. "You and Katara, would you ever make me see things? Like, terrible things?"

Aang frowned, “Sokka, you know we would never-” 

“Okay, I kind of already _know_ it's not you guys ,” Sokka interrupted. “But would you be able to?”

Aang tapped his chin thoughtfully, “I might need more context. What kind of things did you see?” 

“Well,” Sokka replied with a weak chuckle. “Some pretty messed up things. I saw this woman, and she looked like Katara for a little bit, and she was crazy strong. She'd put me through these experiences where I almost died, but then I'd 'wake up', and it would seem like it never happened.” 

“Huh,” Aang replied, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “That’s really weird. You were never hurt for real, though, right ?” 

Sokka shook his head, “No, never. I felt it all though."

Aang frowned, “It kinda sounds like it could be another vampire? Vampires can put humans into a weird trance state and alter their perception for a little while. You’d be able to feel, hear, and see whatever they wanted you to see,” He said. “We uh, actually used that when we were faking Katara’s death. B-But we’d never use it for what you’re describing.” 

Sokka nodded thoughtfully. He’d never considered that it could be another vampire following him around. 

Aang continued, "Do you have any idea who it is?" 

"I have no idea, I've never seen her before. Well,” Sokka clarified. “I had a dream about her once. That was the first time she looked different, then when I saw her again she looked like Katara, but I told her Katara was alive so she couldn’t exist. That’s when she changed in person, and I haven't seen her since.” 

"So, what did she look like?" Aang asked. "Maybe I know her?" 

Sokka shrugged, "She was just pale, with black hair. Red eyes?" 

"I mean," Aang started with a chuckle. "That's kinda what a lot of vampires look like." 

"My bad, I'll ask her for her name next time she's cutting me open," Sokka replied sarcastically. "Maybe we can exchange numbers while she's roasting me over an open fire."

Aang laughed, "That's pretty funny, Sokka. But seriously," he continued. "I have no idea. I don't even know if it is a vampire, it could be a witch for all I know."

Sokka hummed thoughtfully, “I met this old guy who told me it was a dark spirit taking over Katara’s place in my heart, or- something like that. Could dark spirits do what you’re describing? The perception thing?” He asked. 

Aang shrugged, “I don’t know much about dark spirits, other than that they typically do _other_ things to mess with humans. I’ve never heard of one doing something like this.” 

“Huh,” Sokka commented with a shrug. “Well, thanks anyway. That was basically all I had. I kinda just wanted to make sure it wasn’t you or Katara.” 

“Sokka, we’d never do anything to hurt you directly,” Aang replied. “And again, we’re both so sorry-” 

“It’s cool. I don’t feel like talking about that right now,” Sokka interrupted. “Anyway, thanks. I’ll see you around.” 

Aang took the hint, offering a small smile to Sokka before standing up from the bench and walking away. 

Once Sokka was sure he was alone, he tilted his head back again, returning his gaze to the stars. He thought about Iroh and made a mental note to visit the old man tomorrow. 

Maybe he'd know something.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was originally going to add an Iroh scene to this chapter, but it felt more natural to end it where I did. Next chapter tho!!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Some of u may have noticed I have TWO fics now (pls go and check out my other one :D) and yes I'm playing a dangerous game by having two active fics at the same time, but I'm also a bad bitch. 
> 
> It's also definitely helped a lot with my writers block I've been having. this fic is giving me a run for my money lol 
> 
> Anyways, this is a bit of a shorter chapter, just some minor Sokka/iroh time. I didn't intend for this chapter to be very long, but I needed to get it out of my system. We all need some sus Iroh in our lives

* * *

“ _ No,  _ it’s not because I don’t like you, ‘dao.” 

“I find it hard to believe you want to get out of this because you  _ do,  _ Sokka.” 

Sokka groaned, dragging out the sound until Piandao finally interrupted him, chuckling in between words. “Okay, okay, I understand,” He said. “I’m sure you have much more important things to do today than spend an hour with me.” 

“Thanks, P!” Sokka said cheerfully. 

It was Piandao’s turn to groan, though Sokka could hear the smile on his face through the phone. “And enough with the nicknames, Sokka. This is supposed to be a professional relationship,” He sternly reminded, but Sokka could still sense the smile. “I’ll see you next week, double session.” 

Sokka chuckled. “See you next week.” He said, before hanging up.

In truth, Sokka really had nothing better to do in place of his weekly meeting with Piandao. He simply wanted the afternoon off to do whatever he wanted. Sokka also didn’t really have much to talk about with Piandao, considering the source of his trauma had suddenly forced her way back into his life. 

Which, technically,  _ was _ something he should be able to talk to Piandao about, but there was the whole vampire thing that Sokka didn’t really think his therapist would take lightly. Besides, he had Jet for that. 

It had been a couple of days since Sokka had seen Jet. A couple of days since Jet admitted he liked Sokka. It had definitely been a good thing, not seeing him, because Jet had a habit of being super flirty and touchy, and while Sokka didn't mind it really, he minded that Jet had a partner. 

Serious or not, he had a thing with someone else, and Sokka didn't want to get in the middle of that. If Sokka were in a situation like that, he'd at least want to be told that his sexual partner wanted to see other people, even if they weren't that serious. 

Today, though, was not the day he was going to hang out with Jet. Sokka had explicitly told him the morning after Jet admitted his feelings that he wanted to be informed when it was over, so it was up to Jet to reach out to him. So no, Sokka wasn’t seeing Jet today. 

Sokka was going to see Zuko! 

He was so excited! Sokka hadn’t seen him in a few days, and even though they’d been texting back and forth frequently, Sokka still missed Zuko’s shy little smiles, the way he blushed, and the way he laughed at Sokka’s stupid jokes. He also missed  _ Zuko’s  _ stupid jokes; the man was hilarious, when he wanted to be. 

Sokka missed all these things as a friend, though. Because Zuko had a boyfriend. 

It wasn't like Sokka had a crush that he was trying to force away, either. Nothing like that at all. Sokka just hadn't had a lot of human interaction in a while, and Zuko was the closest thing he had to normalcy at the moment. Sokka was going to latch onto him like a monkey on a banana. 

No sexual pun intended. Sort of.

After saying goodbye to his dad and Gran-Gran, Sokka made his way out of his house and onto the sidewalk. The air outside was cool, but the sun was bright, so Sokka felt comfortable letting his jacket hang open. He was wearing a warm enough shirt underneath anyways.

Sokka’s visit today was actually going to be a bit of a surprise visit, and he half-hoped Zuko was busy when he arrived. Sokka had even left early enough that there was a chance Zuko would still be asleep by the time he got there. Reason being, Sokka actually wanted to see Iroh more than anything. 

Yes, Sokka’s primary purpose of visiting The Jasmine Dragon was to see Zuko, but Sokka had important things to discuss with his Uncle at some point. Specifically, Sokka wanted to talk spirit mumbo-jumbo with the man, and he wanted to get that out of the way sooner rather than later. Sokka also wasn't sure Zuko would be up for that kind of conversation, and honestly, if Sokka could avoid bringing this kind of stuff into to his relationsh- _friendship_ with Zuko, it was for the best. As he said, Zuko was the only normal aspect of Sokka's life; he kind of wanted it to stay that way. 

Sokka had originally intended to visit Iroh a few days prior, but he’d been weirdly hungover after hanging out with Jet, so he’d pushed it to the next day. Then the Jasmine Dragon was closed, so he pushed it one more day, and then Sokka had to help his dad; it turned into a whole thing that Sokka kept pushing back until today when he decided dealing with his weird vampire sister problems was more important than his meeting with his therapist. 

Rounding the last corner, and strategically avoiding the bush that was somehow always in his way, Sokka made it to The Jasmine Dragon in one piece; no women in black to be found.

“Good morning, Sokka!” Iroh cheerfully called from the counter. “It has been a while since I saw you last. Did your grandmother enjoy the tea I sent you home with?” 

Sokka chuckled. “Do you even have to ask? Your tea is the best in town, of course she liked it.”

Iroh blushed, smiling warmly. “I’m glad to hear it. What can I get for you today? Or are you simply stopping by to see my nephew?” Iroh asked, waggling his eyebrows at Sokka. 

“Well, if he’s around sure, but I actually came to talk to you,” Sokka replied, ignoring the blush creeping up his neck. If Iroh suspected Sokka, there was no way he could keep his weird not-feelings from Zuko. “I was hoping we could actually talk in private?” Sokka had noted how empty the shop was when he entered and hoped the older man would have a moment to step away. 

“Hmm,” Iroh hummed. “Well, Zuko is not around at this moment, so we can definitely talk in private. Let me lock the front door.” Sokka nodded, staying put by the counter while Iroh hurried past him. 

“Follow me into the break room,” Iroh instructed as he passed Sokka for the second time. Sokka trailed behind him as they made their way into the back of the shop, through the 'employee only' door and past the kitchen. 

Once safely inside the break room, Sokka took a seat across from Iroh, who gazed at him expectantly. 

“So, what's on your mind?” Iroh asked, a bright smile on his face. "I have many embarrassing tales about my nephew if you're looking for something like that." 

Okay, he was done for. "Uh, no. That's not uh, why I'm here," Sokka said, clearing his throat. 

Iroh chuckled. "I'm afraid I can't give away any secret recipes either." 

"No, no, it's unrelated to you guys, in a way," Sokka said, and chose his next words carefully. “It’s about that night I was in here, and you told me about the dark spirit.”

Iroh’s expression darkened slightly. “What about that night would you like to talk about?” He asked quietly. 

“Well,” Sokka started, rubbing the back of his neck. “I actually want to know if… and this is going to sound crazy, but- do you believe in vampires?” His voice had raised in pitch near the end of his question until he'd practically squeaked out the word 'vampires'.

A moment of silence passed, Sokka's question echoing lamely in his head until Iroh finally spoke.

“Why do you ask?” 

_ Okay, not a ‘no’. _ “Well," Sokka started, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I have reason to believe that it was a vampire who did that to me, not a dark spirit.” 

Iroh nodded thoughtfully, resting his hands on the table before speaking again. “That night, you told me you saw your sister, and we spoke about the spirits and how they react to human loss," He said, and Sokka nodded. "Tell me, have you let go of her?” 

Sokka almost scoffed. “Yes, I definitely have. I know it’s not my sister anymore,” He replied bitterly. He sighed, leaning his elbows on the table. “Turns out my sister uh... Well, it doesn't really matter, but she's alive now. And she's a vampire.” 

Iroh raised his eyebrows slightly. "Very interesting. She's not the one who's been following you?" 

"No, no," Sokka said, shaking his head. "I've been avoiding my sister. As I said, she doesn't really matter, but the woman who's been following me looks nothing like her now. She changed her appearance a few visits ago." 

"Interesting," Iroh mused quietly, stroking his beard. "Do you know what caused the change?" 

"Uh," Sokka started, remembering the strange blizzard. "I kinda told her I didn't care what she did anymore? And before that, I had a dream about her, where she looked like she does now. She hasn't switched back to mimicking my sister since I told her that." 

"Very interesting," Iroh repeated. "I think you are right; it doesn't sound like this is the work of dark spirits."

“Wait,” Sokka said. “So you  _ do  _ believe in vampires?” 

“Yes, I do,” Iroh replied.

“Then why didn’t you tell me that the first night?” 

Iroh shrugged. “Vampires can be a silly concept to some people. Ghosts and dark spirits are a little easier to believe, strangely enough.” 

“I can believe that,” Sokka said dryly. He’d been one of those people, after all. 

“You must be careful, Sokka,” Iroh started suddenly, his expression darkening further. “The vampire who I saw that night is using terrifyingly powerful wards to protect their identity, and what you've told me is an impressive display of power. I fear that they may be trying to harm you in more ways than one.” 

Sokka’s eyebrows furrowed. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“One rarely goes through this much effort for a human,” Iroh replied. “I’d suggest you look into some wards of your own.” 

Sokka leaned back in his chair, eyeing the older man suspiciously. “You sure know a lot about vampires, don’t you?” 

Iroh smiled at Sokka. “I should be getting back to work now. Please, feel free to stay as long as you like. I’m sure my nephew will be home shortly.” 

Before Sokka could protest, Iroh stood from his chair, bowing slightly at Sokka before leaving him alone in the room. 

Eyebrows furrowed, Sokka shook his head in disbelief. 

"He's totally a vampire."

  
  


* * *

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh sokka, you can lie to yourself all u want, but zuko is the man 4 u <3 <3 <3


End file.
